


Healing

by irinokat



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Anger, Anger Management, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Post-Game(s), Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:58:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 78,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irinokat/pseuds/irinokat
Summary: Seeing Guzma back with his parents is a bit more painful than you might realize at first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First Pokemon fanfic! Let's dive right in.  
> No sex for these first few chapters - it may take a while to get to that. For now the explicit marker is more for the language. (Sex will get here eventually. I promise.)  
> This assumes that the reader-character cis-female and in their early twenties, but still following the same path through the game (having moved to Alola from another region). Everyone else is their normal in-game age.

Route 2 is fairly quiet this evening as you pass by the grass where you caught your Makuhita. The sun’s almost setting, and the only noises are the sounds of the bug Pokémon and the occasional Rattata waking up early and chattering its teeth. You pass through without adding much to the noise yourself.

It’s not a long walk to get past the cemetery and find the motel and house at the top of the hill. It’s maybe taken you half an hour to get from Hala’s house to here, and you’re slightly out of breath as you walk – no matter how much traveling you do, the hills always get you.

You start to walk onto the porch of the small house with lights gleaming from its windows when you hear a creaking sound that’s not coming from the boards under your feet. You back up and walk to the side of the house, where the fenced-in yard sits. And there he is.

It’s almost comical to see Guzma sitting on the child’s swing. He’s so tall his head nearly brushes the top pole, and he looks squeezed by the seat and the chains hanging too close together to really hold his frame. He idly pushes off with his foot every once in a while, moving back a few inches, making the chains groan and whine.

You walk up to the fence and lean over it, staring at him, unsure what to say. He’s staring out into the distance, too lost in thought to notice you. Instead of his usual short-sleeved sweater, he wears a long-sleeved jacket that somehow seems too big for him, even at his size, with the sleeves wide in one of the more popular traditional Alolan styles. His hair is its usual mess, but he doesn’t seem to be wearing his usual eyeshadow, making the bags under his eyes less pronounced.

Finally, you just say, “Hey.” He looks up, furrows his brow, and growls. Trying to find something to say, you blurt, “What are you doing here?”

“Living.” He clings tighter to the swing chains. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Hala wanted me to check out a rockslide on Route 3,” you lie. Somehow you don’t think he’d appreciate being told that Hala wanted you to check in on him. The kahuna had said that Guzma had come to him for a few days after your last battle, but then stopped showing up without saying a word.

“What, so you’re his lapdog now?”

“No. I’m the Champion. I want to help out when I can.”

“Whatever.” He looks away, staring off into the distance again. The light from the nearest house window throws light over his right side, throwing it into sharp relief against the dark shadows the sunset causes.

He’s acting… odd. Much less cocky than usual. You ask, “Do you have any plans?”

“For what?” He won’t even look at you.

“I dunno. For the next few weeks.”

“Why do you care?” The words have a bite to them.

You set your arms on the fence and rest your chin on them. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy to sit around and do nothing.”

He gets up off of the swing, narrowly missing hitting his head on the top bar, and stalks toward you. Even when you’re standing at your full height, he’s almost a head taller than you; having him stand over you like this might be intimidating if you hadn’t already beaten him several times. “Yeah, well, I don’t let other people tell me what to do either.”

“I’m not trying to tell you that you should do anything.” You shrug.

He leans down to make his face level with yours, glaring into your eyes. “Then why don’t you just fuck off?”

You gaze right back, unnerving him. “How’s Plumeria doing? I saw her right after you disbanded Team  Skull. She was not happy, to say the least.”

This startles him. He looks away, lifting his hand to scratch the back of his neck. As he does, the too-wide jacket sleeve slips down a few inches. You can see the start of a bruise, ugly purple and yellow-mottled skin. He starts to answer but you interrupt, asking, “Where’d you get that?”

His eyes go wide. He pulls his arm down but before he can move it away, you grab it. You let out a horrified gasp as you pull his sleeve back. The bruise is unmistakably the shape of a fist. There are smaller bruises down the length of his forearm.

Guzma rips his arm away and stumbles back, glaring at you. “Who did that to you?” you ask. He’s left Team Skull, and as far as you know, he hasn’t gone far beyond his parents’ house and Hau’oli City. Would someone really try to fight him there? Had he gotten someone too on edge? He was big, yeah, but he didn’t seem the type to fist-fight when his Pokémon could do the work.

“Fuck off,” he says again, snarling the words out this time. Before you can say anything, he turns and disappears into the house. You think about asking his parents to let you in, but it probably wouldn’t work. Mind going into overdrive, you start the long walk back home.

 

You meet Hala on the beach by Hau’oli City the next morning, watching the sun rise over the waves. Hala begins his day with tai chi, a martial art he learned from someone from Kanto, and you’ve discovered you enjoy the slow, calming movements. Today, though, no matter how deep you breathe, you can’t shake the tightness from your chest or the worry from your head as you follow Hala’s movements. It doesn’t take Hala long to notice. “Having trouble clearing your mind?”

“Yeah.” You tell him about the night before, about what you saw. Hala takes your words in with a look of worry, but not surprise. You look at him curiously. “Do you know about any fights he’s gotten into? I haven’t heard anything.”

Hala shakes his head. “I’m… honestly not sure if it’s my place to tell you this.” He looks off into the waves as he thinks. Finally he says, “Guzma and his father have always had a… rocky relationship.”

Something clicks in your mind. “You’re not saying that his dad –”

“When he was a child, he often turned up hiding away in corners and alleys, often with strange bruises. He ran away from home when he was sixteen, and his father had to spend a few days at the Pokécenter being treated for… well, for what, he wouldn’t say.”

You stare at Hala, hoping you’re not hearing right. “Why did he go back?”

Hala turns to look at you. “Where else can he go? He disbanded Team Skull, but they won’t listen to him, so he can’t go back to Po Town without being expected to take control again. He’s hated everywhere on the islands for what he did as leader of Team Skull.”

You study the sand at your feet, watching as a few Pyukumuku wash up on shore. “Is there anything I can do?”

“He’s an adult. He’s made his own bed, and unfortunately, now he has to lie in it.”

“But – but no one should be treated like that!” you shout, louder than you wanted to.

“He’s made up his own mind. You can try to change it, but changing minds is more like the sea wearing away a rock than chopping down a tree.”

You glare at Hala. “Well, there’s got to be something to try.” You walk away, furiously storming down the streets of Hau’oli.

 

By the time you find your way back to Guzma’s house, you realize it’s far too early in the morning to wake him. Besides, he doesn’t really seem like a morning person – and you really don’t feel like talking to his parents right now. Annoyed, you hold up your ride pager and call Charizard, heading out into the Poni Wilds. As far as you know, you don’t have any challengers today – you can spend the morning hunting for Pokémon and blowing off steam.

Before you return to Melemele, you fly over to Ula’Ula, landing as close to the desert as you can safely get. The mobile homes are loud this time of day with kids playing and parents talking. You walk up to Plumeria’s trailer and hesitantly knock.

If Guzma might not be a morning person, Plumeria definitely isn’t. It’s nearly 11 AM and she’s grumpy, barely out of pajamas, hair a tangled mess falling down her back. She folds her arms as soon as she sees you. “What do you want this time?” she grumbles.

“Have you talked to Guzma since you all split up?” you ask.

She snorts. “I’m not talking to that dipshit until he apologizes to me and gets the team back together.”

“Oh.”

She sees the distressed look on your face. “Did he have a heart attack or something?”

“He…” You sigh. “He moved back in with his parents.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms, uncomfortable. “Maybe you could… try to talk some sense into him?”

She rolls her eyes. “Like he’d listen to me.”

“You’re his best friend! Or his girlfriend or whatever.”

This time she laughs. “Me? With him? God, no. He’s a wreck and I’m not into guys anyways.” She stops laughing as she turns back to the news you told her. “So… he’s made up with them?”

Now you’re not sure if it’s your place to tell her what happened. “I… I don’t think so.”

“That’s not good.” She leans against the doorframe, thinking.

“Could you maybe visit him?”

She gives you a long stare. “If he’s going to listen to anyone at this point, it’s probably going to be you.”

What? “What do you mean? He wouldn’t listen to me if I showed up naked on his doorstep.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She shrugs. “You’ve beaten him what, four times now? That’s made him pay attention.”

“Maybe made him train more.”

She nods. “That’s what I mean. He’s used to an easy beat-down. He doesn’t go after trainers the way he goes after you. And you get him every time.” While you turn this over in your head, she goes to shut the door.

You catch the door with your foot. “So you’ll try?”

“Can’t say it’ll do anything. And I’m still pretty mad at him.” She pushes your foot away. “But I guess I can give him a call.” Before she shuts the door, you hear her faintly say, “And make sure he’s eating something.”

 

When you return to Hau’oli City, you’ve calmed down a little bit. You stop at a restaurant and order two to-go meals before you return to Route 2.

Guzma’s father answers the door. “Can I help you?”

You do your best to swallow the anger in your throat and speak civilly. “Can I see Guzma?”

“What’s he done this time?” The immediate assumption that he’s done something wrong riles you, even though you know at this point it’s a reasonable thought.

“I just want to talk to him.”

The door closes. A few minutes later, it opens again, Guzma filling the doorway. When he sees you, he scowls. “What, last night wasn’t enough?”

You hold the food out to him. He tries to grab it but you pull back. “Eat with me.”

“No.” He starts to shut the door.

You jam yourself against it, standing uncomfortably close. You try to ignore the heat radiating off of him. How can he stand to wear that jacket? “Just one meal.”

“You’ll leave me alone after this.”

“If that’s what you want me to do.”

He takes the bag from your hands. “Not here.” You follow him down the road to a ridge overlooking the sea. He sets the bag down and pulls a Pokéball from his pocket, releasing Golisopod. You try not to feel unnerved standing so close to it; you’ve never been the best at handling bug-types, and the giant variety make your skin crawl. He pats Golisopod a few times and gets out some Pokébeans, feeding them all to him before even starting to consider the food you got.

Guzma barely eats at first, staring out at the water. He’s so distant. This was the guy who bent down to get in your face just to mess with you when he first met you. You watch him as you eat, admiring the way his hair shifts in the wind. He notices you staring. “What?”

“Are you… okay?”

He snorts. “Like you care.”

“I do.” You poke the to-go box in his lap. “Eat something.”

He scoops up some of the rice, then pauses with the chopsticks in his mouth. “You don’t have to take care of me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re gross.” There’s rice sticking to his lips.

“Thanks,” he says with a large drop of sarcasm in his voice. He stops eating again. Before you can say anything, Golisopod nudges him on the shoulder, then bumps the take-out box. He does it a second time before Guzma elbows him away. This time, though, he does start eating in earnest.

He gets halfway through his food before you work up the courage to ask what’s on your mind. “Do you like being at home?”

He stops chewing and glares down at you. “So who told you what bullshit?”

You put your hand on his arm. “Well, that told me a lot. It didn’t take much to piece it together.”

“I am going to find out who told you and give them the beat-down of a lifetime.” He’s angry, but there’s not much energy behind it. Is this really the same guy you’ve been fighting with for the past few weeks?

“But – but you don’t let people walk all over you like that.”

He laughs. It’s a bitter sound, not the fun kind you like to hear from him. “Then what the fuck was Lusamine doing?” You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind. “I rolled over and gave her whatever she wanted. And look how that went.”

You grip his arm a little tighter. “But you got out of there.”

“And landed right back here.” It hurts to hear so much venom directed at himself. “Right back where I started.” He seems to perk up for a minute, but his words make it clear he’s faking it. “Oh yeah, but everyone hates me! Not just…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Team Skull doesn’t hate you.”

“I disbanded it, remember? I’m not going back to that.”

“What about Plumeria?”

“You and I both know she hates my guts for stopping the gang.”

“Maybe if you’d try talking to her, you’d find out she doesn’t.” He considers that for a moment. As he thinks, you say, “I don’t hate you.”

He glares again. “You just pity me because you think I’ve got daddy issues.” He smirks. “What, do you have daddy issues too?” He puts his hand on top of the one you’ve laid on his arm, nails digging in a little bit. “You want to call me daddy?”

Now you’re glaring right back. “I’m being serious.”

“It’s okay if you want to call me daddy. I won’t tell anyone.” He grabs your chin and pulls you in closer to him. “It’d be a story, though. The Alolan champion wants to fuck big bad Guzma.”

You shake out of his grip. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Good, because I don’t do pity-fucks.” Guzma gets to his feet, brushing your arm off, clearly done. Golisopod considers the box of food he just dumped off his lap, then follows after his master.

You get up, chasing after him. “I was going to say you could stay over for a while, if you needed somewhere to go,” you shout, “but not if you’re just going to be such a jackass!”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” You let him walk off then, frowning at his back. His normal swagger seems a bit stilted but he keeps going, unbothered at leaving you behind.

You turn to pick up the food boxes, not noticing him start to violently tug at his hair.


	2. Chapter 2

A few nights later, you hear a knock at the door.

Well, it’s less that you hear the knock than you hear Decidueye hooting. He knows to stay quiet if he comes in your room while you sleep, so something must be up. You clamber out of bed and hear someone banging on the door this time. You throw on a sweatshirt before you open the door, wondering what on earth could be happening.

Guzma puts his hand on the doorframe as soon as you open it. He’s wearing his old Team Skull hoodie. You take a quick glance at the bruises on both arms before returning to his face. He coughs, then asks, “Were you serious about letting me stay over?”

You stare at him. This is about the last thing you expected. “Were you serious about being an asshole?”

“You know that’s just what I am.” His eyes are wide, desperate. His knuckles are red.

You back up to let him in. “What happened?”

“So I can stay.”

“Yeah.” He walks in, purposely bumping your shoulder with his as he passes you. He doesn’t do it in a rough way, at least.  “Nice digs.”

Tomorrow was supposed to be your cleaning day. You sigh as you look at the pillows dumped off the couch and the blankets thrown over the chairs. “So what’s up?” you ask again as you follow him through the living room.

He doesn’t turn to look at you. “I decked my dad.”

“What?!”

He shrugs. “It was him or me. I chose me.”

You glance at the clock in the corner. It’s 2:45AM. This is not what you were expecting when you wanted to offer him somewhere safe. “So you just up and clobbered your dad to the ground.”

“Like I said, him or me.” He finally turns to look at you. “I wasn’t the first one swingin’ if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

He laughs at that. “Yeah, I don’t think one punch would do that.”

You look over him. He isn’t holding any bags or anything. “You’ve got your Pokémon, right?”

He sticks a hand into his pocket and pulls out his Pokéballs. “I’m not that stupid.”

“But you don’t have anything else.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking, alright? I hit him, then I ran once he hit the floor.” He’s trembling.

You think about hugging him for a moment before you put your hand on his shoulder. You have to reach up to do it. “You want something to drink?”

“You got any Tapu Cocoa?”

As you put milk on the stove to warm, he sags down onto the couch, still shaking. Decidueye watches him, untrusting. When you give him the cup, he nearly spills it on himself. He blows on it and takes a sip. “Good shit.” You have the feeling that’s the closest thing to a compliment you’re ever going to get from him.

“You can have the bed tonight.”

“No.” He tries to grin at you. “Unless you want to share it.”

“I think I’m good,” you tell him dryly. You search your closet for a decent blanket, not the thin ones you keep around the living room but something that could keep someone warm. The Alolan nights can get surprisingly cold.

When you get back to the living room with one of your pillows and the blanket, Guzma’s already finished his drink. He grabs your wrist as you set them down on the couch next to him. “So, what do you want?”

“Huh?” You’re ready to go back to bed now.

“What do you want for me staying here? Money?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Seriously.” He rubs his thumb over your hand, sending sparks up your arm to your spine. “What do you want? Sex?”

You pull your arm away from him. “I thought you didn’t do pity fucks.”

“I do what I have to do to keep a roof over my head.” You stare at him, wondering what he did when he ran away from home the first time. On second thought, you probably really don’t want to know.

“I don’t – just – don’t worry about it, okay?” He scrutinizes your face, looking for something. You yawn. “I’m going back to bed. Try not to trash the house, okay?”

 

When your alarm goes off the next morning, you cringe. Arcanine hops up and licks your face eagerly, ready to go for a walk. You shush her and get ready for the day.

When you pass through the living room, you turn to the couch, not entirely sure whether last night was real. But there he is, curled up in a ball on your couch, lightly snoring. The doofus left his sunglasses on. You pull them off and set them on the table, studying his face. He looks so relaxed in his sleep. You move to brush some of the hair out of his eyes when Arcanine bounds over, sniffing Guzma eagerly. You pull her away and manage to get her out the door just before she starts barking.

As you meet Hala on the beach, Arcanine begins her game of bouncing as close to the waves as she can before getting splashed. She yips when she gets splashed by the spray. You roll your eyes at her. At least she always has ways to amuse herself. Hau is with Hala this morning; instead of practicing with the two of you, he runs happily into the waves, releasing his Primarina. You can’t help but giggle as Primarina takes to squirting water at Arcanine and making her dodge out of the way even faster.

While you’re cooling down, you hesitantly ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have any of your son’s old clothes, would you?” Hala gives you a rightfully confused look. You sigh and explain your night.

“I don’t think I have any clothes that would fit him,” Hala says. “Would it be better if he stayed with me?”

You shrug. “I don’t know if he’d go to you. I don’t even know why he came to me.” You stay out, playing with your Arcanine and your Lanturn, until it’s time for the shops to open.

When you come home with a few shopping bags, Guzma’s sitting up on your couch, scratching his jaw and yawning, looking like he just woke up. “Does your damn dog have to be so loud?” he asks.

“She’s a morning person,” you say, setting down the bags next to him.

“What’re these?” he asks, glancing at them.

“You’re not just going to wear one outfit every day.” You head into the kitchen and start to make breakfast. You’re going to have to get more groceries soon if he’s going to stick around.

When you flip the eggs, you hear him say “No.” from the doorway. He throws the bags on the floor at your feet.

You kick them back toward him. “You are not stinking up my house wearing the same underwear for a week.”

“You don’t need to buy me things. I told you, I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t need a new mom, either.”

“How would you get more clothes, then?” You look up at him.

“Steal ‘em.”

“I thought you were trying to go straight.”

“Desperate times.”

“I’d rather you not go back to all that.” You scoop the eggs out onto two plates. “You want toast?”

“I’m not taking your damn clothes.”

“Then fucking walk around naked.” You hand him a plate. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” He grabs the plate and walks out, not willing to pass up food. You throw some bread in the toaster and clean the pan, trying not to bang it against the sink in frustration.

You choke a little when you come out into the dining room and see Guzma with his hoodie and shirt off. He looks up at you, daring you to say something. You study his arms, trying to see past the bruises. “So what happened to the tattoos?” His face flushes as he tries to stutter out an answer. “Oh my word. Don’t tell me those were fake.” He turns away and stabs at his eggs. You pinch him gently. “You baby.”

“It’s not like I could afford real ones,” he mumbles under his breath.

You’re quiet for a while as you finish breakfast. When he speaks again, you’re surprised. “It’s not you.” You wait for him to continue. “The last person who was nice to me and gave me things turned out to be fucking insane.”

You really don’t know what to say to that.  You give him a pat on the arm. The moment passes. He gets up from the table, picking up his plate and looking like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. You hand him your plate and he stares at you, raising an eyebrow. “Do the dishes. I’ve got to get ready.”

“For what?”

“Two title challengers today. Maybe three if that girl who was working on it yesterday got past Acerola.”

“Right. Guess the champion actually has a job to do every now and then.” He stalks off into the kitchen, suddenly seeming annoyed.

You change into your new Champion outfit – just a simple green and white dress – and do up your hair. Kukui said the dress code wasn’t too fancy, but you still feel a little underdressed. Then again, Kukui hadn’t exactly dressed up to fight you for the first time anyways.

When you enter the living room, you hear a wolf-whistle. Thankfully Guzma deigned to put his shirt back on, but it was still tight around his chest. You’re tempted to slap him, but resist the impulse. “You clean up nice.”

“Thanks?” Is he trying to be sleazy or give an actual compliment? With his usual tone, it’s hard to tell. You push your earrings in quickly as you find your new, uncomfortable flats. You really need to break the things in.

“Got any other piercings?” he asks.

“Nope.” You glance at his black studs. “Do you?” You’d thought you’d noticed a flash of metal around his nipple earlier but you hadn’t been willing to take a closer look.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He folds his arms over his chest and smirks.

“Yeah, somehow I doubt you’re brave enough for a Prince Albert.” He sits forward and spits out something uncouth as you slam the door behind you. “Don’t burn the place down!” you shout back at the house as you get out your ride pager.

The day isn’t terribly eventful. The first girl, Ari, puts up a nice fight, but three of her Pokemon go down immediately to your Decidueye. The other two barely stand a chance. You feel kind of bad thrashing these kids – most of them have been between eleven and fifteen. You feel too old for this, but Kukui had told you to go through with the island challenge and try being a Champion out. You shake hands with each of the challengers before they sadly turn around and leave to train harder.

Returning home in the late afternoon, you open your door just in time to hear a crash and a shout of “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You rush in to see Guzma pulling at his hair as his Golisopod stands in the corner, having just knocked over a vase of flowers. Most of the furniture’s been knocked around, but it seems to be intact.

You make your way over to Golisopod, walking slowly to avoid the broken ceramic and keep the creature from getting aggressive. He hisses at you at first. Cringing, you force yourself to reach out and brush your hand down his head. He pushes into the touch, and soon you have him melting under your hands. As you gently rub his shell, you say, “Mind putting this guy away?” No response.

You turn to look at Guzma. It almost looks like he’s trying to rip his hair out. He’s whispering to himself. You can’t understand the words, but you’ve seen him do this enough times to know what he’s saying. You feel your heart break as you step towards him.

You take his hands in yours, kneading your thumbs into his palms, hoping to get him to release. He shakes his head and shouts, pulling even harder. You’ve never seen him as such a mess, and all over a broken vase? “Stop it,” you tell him. The whispering stops, but now he’s hyperventilating, sharp, harsh breaths ripping from his throat. “Breathe, c’mon, take a deep breath,” you say, trying to get him to calm down – he’s going to make himself pass out at this rate. You pull in a deep breath yourself, let it out, breathe deep, hoping that maybe somewhere inside him he’ll listen to you and follow suit.

Slowly his grip relaxes and his breath slows, though he sounds more like he’s sobbing now. You set his hands in his lap. They stay clenched there, his whole body filled with tension, shaking again. You don’t know what else you can do right now, so you leave him, glancing around the room.

Golisopod is still standing over the remains of the vase. You point to the corner where your Arcanine’s former Pokébed sits, abandoned since she evolved from a Growlithe. It’s not nearly big enough for the bug either, but you don’t care as much if he damages it. “Sit.”

The bug chatters at you, clearly annoyed. You reach out again to pet him, and he turns away. Sighing, you find your stash of Pokebeans in your bag. Golisopod turns back to you as you wave your hand in front of him, enticed by the scent of the beans. You toss two onto the bed. Golisopod instantly goes after them, knocking away an end table in his haste.

While he’s distracted, you start to pick up the big pieces of the vase you can easily see. Once your hands are full, you run to the kitchen and dump the pieces into the garbage, pulling the bag out and dragging it with you while you reach for your broom.

It doesn’t take long to sweep up the remains. It does take a while to mop up the watery mess and gather the flower petals, especially with Golisopod begging you for more treats. You sigh as you pick up the last of the two roses that had been in the bouquet – your mother had sent the arrangement once she found out about your new position as Champion. You didn’t quite know how to take care of them so they had been wilting anyways, but it was still sad to see them go this way.

When you’ve finished, you look back at Guzma. He’s breathing more regularly now, and his hands are in his lap, but he’s staring at the floor. You nudge his shoulder. He looks up at you and for once, he doesn't look angry or resentful – he almost looks panicked. You remember Ultra Space, when he'd been so lost and genuinely scared…

“Could you put the big guy up?” He slowly gets out a Pokéball and calls Golisopod into it. “Okay, now help me get this stuff straightened out.” It takes him a minute to get to his feet but once he does, he's suddenly fury on wheels. You have to ask him not to slam things on the ground as you get everything in order. He's strong – he manages to lift the couch and set it back against the wall by himself. Once everything's back in place, he stands there, unsure of what to do with himself. You reach for his arm, but he pulls away. “So… what happened?” you ask.

“I just… wanted to let my team out. Stretch their legs.” He plops down on the couch, sinking back into it. “Golisopod… he kinda did whatever he wanted in Po Town. He's not used to me saying he can't break something.”

“Maybe you should let them out in the yard for a while.” You grab one of the end tables and flip it down, showing him a bad burn mark on the underside of the wood. “It took some time to housebreak Arcanine when she was little.”

He snorts. “At least my bugs can't set the house on fire.”

“Just, y'know, cause a flood or tear up the place. “ He flinches. You punch him in the shoulder. “I was kidding.” You sit next to him. “So do you just do the hair thing whenever you get upset?”

Now he's glaring. “None of your business.”

“You do it all the time. It's not like no one notices.” You reach up to ruffle his hair, but he knocks your hand out of the way. “You shouldn't hurt yourself like that.”

“Don’t tell me what I should do.”

“I mean it.” You widen your legs, letting your knee bump against his thigh. “It’s bad enough getting it from someone else. Why would you do it to yourself?”

“It’s just what I do, okay?”

“It’s not okay.”

“Would you just leave me alone?!” he finally snarls, pushing you away from him. With one last sigh, you get up and leave the room.

The next few hours are awkward and uncomfortable. You’re not used to cooping yourself up in your room, but you really don’t feel like leaving and encountering Guzma again. You let out Arcanine and let her curl up at the end of your bed while you read a book Kukui lent to you, feet buried in Arcanine’s fur.

When you finally emerge around the time you’re normally eating dinner, you check the living room and find he’s not there. He’s not in any of the other rooms or in the yard. You shrug and start putting together spaghetti, the simplest thing that you can think of that would feed the both of you with his appetite.

He’s not back by the time you finish cooking, or when you’ve finished eating, and not even after you’ve done the dishes and tidied the kitchen. Anxious, you start cleaning the living room, dusting and sweeping, folding his blanket and setting it neatly on the couch. You wonder where he wandered off to, hoping he’s not getting into trouble in town.

Soon it’s time for you to go to bed if you want to be awake on time tomorrow, but you don’t even try to sleep, sitting in the living room, waiting. He was right, he doesn’t need a babysitter and you don’t want to be one anyways, but him being out this long makes you anxious. When you finally can’t stay awake anymore, you retreat to your bedroom, leaving the door open a crack so you can hear anything that happens out in the living room.

Nothing disturbs your sleep. When you wake up, tired and grumpy again, no one else is in the house. You check the living room; nothing’s been moved since you left last night. You give a long sigh.

Now he’s running away from you, too. Why?


	3. Chapter 3

You skip tai chi this morning, walking the routes, trying to figure out where Guzma went. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a ride pager. Thankfully Melemele is a relatively small place and you’ve gone through all three routes and Melemele Meadow by late morning, but there’s been no sign of him. You have to go face a challenger today, but you stop in at Kukui’s lab, just in case he may have turned to a childhood friend for help.

Kukui’s run off somewhere, but Lillie and Nebby happily answer the door for you. When you ask her whether she’s seen Guzma, she gets nervous. “Why are you looking for him?”

“I’m worried about him.”

Lillie squeezes one of the arms of the sweater tied around her waist. “He’s a bad man, isn’t he?”

You frown. “No.”

“But he stole Pokémon, and he – he worked with my mother.” Lillie’s biting her lip. This is bringing up bad memories for her.

You pat her shoulder. “Lillie, you know how your mother treated you?” She nods. “She treated him the same way. You’re right, he’s done bad things. But he’s hurting right now and he needs help, just like you did. He needs…” You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you know what he needs. “He needs friends right now. Just like how you needed Kukui and Hau and I.”

She’s struggling to comprehend. It’s so hard to talk to kids about this kind of thing; especially growing up under Lusamine’s wing, her view of good and bad are black and white. “You still wanted to help your mother, even though she hurt you, right?” Lillie nods again. “He still needs help, even though he hurt people. Okay?”

“I… I think I understand.” She looks around. “I haven’t seen him since… since we went into Ultra Space. But I’ll let you know if we do see him.”

You smile. Lillie’s such a sweet girl. Hopefully she can learn to see the good in people like Guzma, especially once she understands what he went through. “Thanks.”

When you get to Mount Lanikila, Hala is waiting for you. “The morning was quiet without you.”

“Sorry,” you tell him. You’re not required to go to the beach with Hala in the mornings, but you come so often that missing a day is unusual. “I was… looking for Guzma.”

“He left?” You sigh. “He’s not an easy person to get along with. Are you sure you want him back?”

“Of course!” you say a little too loudly, mortified.

Hala holds up his hands to placate you. “I wasn’t suggesting that you give up on him. But perhaps it would be better if he stayed with me, or with Kukui.”

“If we can even find him in the first place,” you say, dejected.

“He can’t have gotten off of Melemele. We’ll find him sooner or later.”

 

You only have one challenger today, and the fight is tough, but your heart’s not in it. You try to smile as you shake the boy’s hand, because he did great, even though he lost. All you think about is where Guzma could be. You ride off on Charizard with barely a goodbye to anyone else on the mountain.

Heading into town, you run into Ilima, splitting a malasada with his Smeargle. After a short, polite conversation with the boy, a thought strikes you – he wouldn’t be hiding out in one of the caves around here, would he?

The Yungoos in Verdant Cavern aren’t happy to see you enter, but you ignore them, searching every inch of the cave, even the Totem Gumshoos’s lair. No sign of him. Next you try Ten Carat Hill, and there you strike gold.

At least he’s not in the actual cave – he’s sitting in the valley, up on a ridge, back pressed against the rock behind him, his knees pulled up tight to his chest. He has is hood up and doesn’t look up as you approach. You don’t say anything to him – you don’t know what to say, really. Would he accept another invitation to your house? Would he respond to a scolding? Finally you sit next to him, not saying a word.

After a while he asks, “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Do you have anywhere to stay?”

“Why do you care?”

“You need to have somewhere to go.”

He sucks in a deep breath. “I’m just going to wreck all your shit and piss you off.”

“Guzma, it was just a vase.”

“That’s where it starts. Then it’s a table, or your favorite chair. Then I’m slacking off and not doing anything. Then –”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there.” You look up at him. Even hunched over as he is, he’s still much taller than you. “I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself there.’

“It’s what always happens.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I break things, I’m not doing enough, I’m failing at what I am doing, I –” He stops suddenly. He chokes a little and you realize he’s trying to hold back tears.

You don’t say anything. You never know what to do when someone’s crying in front of you, not that it’s happened often. He wildly scrubs at his face as a tear escapes and leaks down his cheek.

You grab his wrist and pull it away, trying to stop him. “Let it out,” you whisper, wishing he’d stop attacking himself.

He buries his head in his knees, trying to hide as his gasping breaths turn into full-blown sobs. You rub his arm, with no idea what to do, what to say. At least he’s not holding himself back. Eventually he looks up and stares into your eyes. “Why won’t you just give up on me?” he asks when he can catch his breath.

“I want to help you.”

“Everyone who does leaves eventually.” He gives a hollow laugh. “Or turns out to be completely fucking bonkers. And she left me in the end anyways.”

“Hala didn’t give up on you.” You lean against him, feeling him tense up at your touch. “He was the one who wanted me to find you when you stopped coming to him.”

“Yeah, after telling me to fuck off when I tried out for trial captain and going on about everything I’ve ever done wrong when I came back. Add that to the list.”

You run your thumb down his arm. He sneers at you. “Besides, you just want a fuck, god knows why.”

You take your hand from his arm, glaring up at him. “That’s not why I’m trying to help you.”

“Then why? Why do you even give a shit?” He rubs his drying face. His chin is bristly with his five o’clock shadow. You try not to wonder what it feels like. “You’re the champion. You’re on top of the world, you can do anything you want, and you’re wasting your time on a complete fuck-up.”

“Would you stop calling yourself that?”

“It’s what I am.”

You pull your knees to your chest, unconsciously mimicking him. “I liked it better when you were saying you were the best trainer around. What was it you called yourself? Destruction in human form?”

“It’s ya boi.” He coughs out a laugh after saying it. “It still fits. Breaking shit’s all I do.”

“No, it’s not.”

He glares at you. “Tell me one time I haven’t completely fucked up.”

“That’s not fair. I’ve only known you for a few weeks.”

“Yeah, and now you’re trying to swoop in and save me like it’s your job.”

“I just…” You look away. “You did some crappy things, yeah, but you don’t deserve to get beat up. Or treated like shit.”

The saddest thing is when he puts his head down and says, “I do deserve it.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “No, you don’t. No one does.”

“I fucking stole people’s Pokémon!” he shouts. “What the hell else are people supposed to do?”

“Maybe realize you’ve changed? Give you a chance?”

“Why should they? I’m just going to start fucking up again.”

You take a deep breath. What would even convince him at this point? You have no idea. “Why’d you form Team Skull?”

“Huh?”

You elbow him. “I’m asking you a question. Answer it.”

“To steal shit. To fuck things up for other people. To – to –” He shakes his head. “I don’t even remember anymore.”

“Well, I don’t know what the original reason was,” you tell him, “but one thing you did do was give outcast kids a home. Kids who felt like they were fuck-ups got a second chance at doing something.”

“Yeah, so they could fuck shit up. And we were even bad at that.”

“But you gave them a place to rest their heads. You gave them a place to feel safe. Why don’t you deserve that?”

He lets out a long, heavy sigh. “I promise you, you’re gonna fuckin’ regret it. I don’t know why you don’t already.”

“So that means you’ll come back?”

He glares. “I’m not promising anything.”

“I just don’t want you sleeping out here. You’ll catch a cold and die or something.”

His laughter is genuine this time. “Or something. Yeah, I’ll get eaten by a stray Rockruff.”

“Or crushed by a Roggenrola.”

He grins. It’s not like his usual smirks, softer on his face. “I’d like to see one try.”

“You want to see if we can find one?”

“Why the hell would I want to do that?”

You shrug. “Because looking for Pokémon is fun?”

“I thought your Dex was already full. And it’s not like I have one.”

You laugh. “Fuck no. I got way too caught up in the trials and your bullshit.” You check it quickly. “I do, in fact, have a Roggenrola, though. I should probably try to evolve it at some point.”

“Let my Golisopod go at it, show it the beat-down.”

You bump his shoulder with yours. “I want my Pokémon to learn how to fight properly, thank you.”

“Fighting dirty is fighting properly!” He bumps you back. “They can learn shit like Sucker Punch for a reason!”

“Whatever.” You stand up to stretch – sitting the way you have been was causing your legs to cramp up. Thinking about it, you let out Arcanine, Mimikyu, and Kadabra, so they can stretch too. Suddenly an Ariados and a Pinsir appear. You laugh and watch as Mimikyu swipes a claw at Ariados, only for it to lift up its leg and flick Mimikyu’s disguise’s head. The Pokemon run around and play-fight for a while before you decide to head home, Guzma in tow.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days are relatively peaceful. You face a few challengers for your title, but none of them cause you to break a sweat. Guzma is surprisingly quiet, mostly choosing to hang around the house, but staying outside so he can let his Pokémon run around safely. You’re surprised to see how gentle he is with them. Golisopod is clearly spoiled rotten, but his Masquerain is polite, investigating you quickly when you first meet it but quickly losing interest. You still find the Ariados a bit too freaky to approach, but it always seems to be in a good mood.

When Guzma’s not around his Pokémon, he seems restless, ready to do something but not knowing _what_ to do. He helps out with little chores around the house without complaining (much), but most of the time when he’s indoors, he’s sitting on the couch, leg bouncing restlessly up and down, staring out the window. (He’s been avoiding the two armchairs in the room. You wonder if it has something to do with his former “throne.”) You catch him flipping channels on your TV sometimes, and you offer him books to read, but he doesn’t seem to take an interest in anything. You also catch him wandering around the house, inspecting everything – the one time you see him put a hand on your bedroom doorknob, you give a fake cough and glare at him when he spins around to face you. He smirks. “What’re you hiding?”

“I like my privacy.”

“You got to see my room in Po Town.”

“You had your room on display. I had to walk on a roof to get to it. You’re lucky I’m still alive – hell, you’re lucky _you_ didn’t die or kill one of your kids falling off that thing with how slick everything got with the rain.”

“But you’ve gotta admit it was cool.” You roll your eyes at him and push him back towards the couch.

Another time, you find him investigating the drawers in your bathroom. “Your make-up is shit,” he informs you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t happen to stock up on your particular shade of lavender last time I went shopping,” you tell him. “Besides, I don’t do much besides the basics unless something is really fancy.” And you didn’t really bother to put it on during your island challenge either, when it just would have melted off with the heat of the days in the jungle and on the beach.

“At least get yourself a decent eyeliner, geez,” he chides as he examines your two eyeshadow palates.

“I don’t quite remember giving you permission to go through my shit and criticize it.”

He sets the palates back into the drawer. “You ever need help with your make-up, talk to Plumes. She is an expert at wings.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  You cock your head to the side. “How’s she doing, by the way?”

He stiffens. “Don’t know.”

“You ever think about calling her?”

Now he’s glaring. “Get out of my business.”

“Then get out of mine.”

The drawer snaps shut as he stalks past you, bumping your shoulder hard. The effect is ruined when he stops and asks, “You mind if I use your eyeshadow sometimes?”

“Sure. It’s not like I’m using it.”

 

One morning, when you wake up, you decide it’s time to do something. You get dressed in your usual shorts and tanktop as Arcanine prowls restlessly, waiting for her morning walk. As you enter the living room, you don’t try to shush her as usual; uninhibited, she rushes over to Guzma on the couch and licks his face, excited. He sputters awake, shoving the massive dog away, trying desperately to wipe the saliva off. “What the hell was that for?!” he shouts.

“Time to wake up,” you tell him, adding a bit too much sweetness to your voice.

He stares at you. “The fuck?”

You look back at him, trying to ignore that he sleeps shirtless. (Well, okay, you sneak a peek at his chest, and, as you suspected, his nipples are indeed pierced. Your heartrate might have just spiked slightly.) “You’re gonna come with me and practice with Hala today.”

“Excuse me?” You can’t tell how much of his anger is just his grogginess. He doesn’t really get up this early.

“Just this once. Just try it. Please.”

He’s considering a snappy comeback, you can see it on his face. After a few moments though, he says, “You promise this won’t be an everyday thing?”

You shrug. “Not unless you want it to be.”

He lets out a pained sigh. “Fine.”

You wait outside as he gets dressed, throwing sticks to Arcanine to keep her occupied. When he finally joins you, he doesn’t look any less grumpy. Ignoring it, you stroll down to the beach, Arcanine bounding ahead of you.

Hala greets you as normal, then turns to Guzma with surprise. “I see we have another early riser today!” Guzma just grumbles in response.

You give him a light smack on the shoulder. “Be polite!” He just yawns at you.

Arcanine’s off playing in the waves, as usual. Today you let Hariyama out as well. You wonder why you haven’t thought of letting him do this with you before. Hala smiles and releases his Poliwrath as well. Guzma shrugs and says, “So long as we’re having a party,” and lets Golisopod go. He immediately curls up at Guzma’s feet, begging for scratches. “So what are we doing exactly?”

“Tai chi. Martial arts. Exercise.”

“Oh. Great.” He’s openly irritated. You try not to be annoyed, considering it’s your fault he’s out here.

Hala says, “You can just watch to start with.”

“Fine by me.” Guzma crouches down in the sand, occasionally handing off a bean to Golisopod.

To be honest, the whole thing is a bit of a mess. Hala and Poliwrath move through the forms with the ease and skill of mastery. You do your best to follow along as usual, motioning to Hariyama to do the same. He starts to mimic you, but gets bored with how slow the movements are and starts adding his own punches and kicks. You try to reign him in, but after a few minutes you’re so distracted that you’ve lost complete track of where you are in the form. As you try to get back in sync with Hala, you notice Golisopod attempting to do some of the moves, getting unbalanced as he tries to cross his feet. You try not to giggle when Guzma elbows him and accidentally sends him toppling to the ground. Arcanine yips happily in the background.

You put Hariyama up when you go to cool down, but Hala keeps Poliwrath out. He motions to Guzma. “Come battle me.”

“What, you want a beat-down this early?”

“I want to see your skills, and whether you’ve changed how you treat your opponent.”

Guzma snorts. “Whatever.” He motions Golisopod to stand in front of him. “Let’s go!”

 

They decide only to use three Pokémon, but the battle is still drawn out. Each of them have a couple of moves that are super-effective against each other, but just about everything else is less effective than normal. Guzma’s actually forced to think pretty hard about what moves he’s going to use after First Impression. He manages to scrape out a win with his Masquerain against Hala’s Crabominable, and he’s looking pretty tired too, not just his Pokémon.

He fistbumps Masquerain – well, he tries to, considering the poor bug doesn’t have anything remotely resembling a fist. It looks more like he’s gently punching its wing. Then he grins gleefully at Hala. “How’s that beat-down feeling, huh?”

Hala considers him. “That was better,” he admits. “You’re considering strategy more instead of just trying to slam your opponent from the start. But you still have a long way to go.”

Guzma looks grumpy at this. “Can’t you just say I beat ya?”

Hala sighs. “There’s more to Pokémon battling than just winning or losing, Guzma. You need to understand that, to respect your opponent instead of lording it over them.”

“Are you ever gonna have anything new to tell me?” Guzma asks as he gets Pokébeans out of his pocket.

“You haven’t learned the lesson yet. Why should I have anything new to tell you?” Guzma just growls as he feeds Masquerain.

Hala leaves to start his duties for the day. Guzma still looks pissed. You don’t want to see him like this. “Do you wanna get some malasadas?” you ask, feeling awkward.

His face softens as he looks at you. “Sure. Sounds good.” He pets his Masquerain. “This guy deserves a treat!” You step forward and hesitantly pat Masquerain on the head. Guzma grins. “You scared?”

You force yourself to lean down and give the bug a hug. Masquerain flits his wings in surprise and bumps itself forward into your chest. You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty cute for a Bug-type.

You stop by the Pokémon Center first. There aren’t many people there, but the voices get hushed when people see who walked in. Guzma visibly tenses as a couple starts whispering. He hands over his Pokéball without a word to the nurse, who looks a little confused at seeing the two of you. When the Pokémon are done healing, he takes them back and turns to go, still silent. You nudge him. “What?”

“Say thanks,” you hiss at him.

He scowls down at you before turning back to the nurse. “Thanks.” He still sounds pissed.

The nurse gives a nervous smile back. “You’re welcome.”

Guzma doesn’t relax after leaving the center. You try to break the silence that’s fallen over you. “Sooo, that wasn’t too bad?” Guzma scowls. That was not the right thing to say. Shit.

“Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking kid.”

“I just – if you’re actually nice to people, it goes a long way.”

“Maybe I’m not nice.”

“Well, maybe you should try it.” When he doesn’t respond, you add, “It might change people’s minds if you tried to be polite.”

Guzma stays quiet as you walk to the malasada shop. The only thing he says in the place is an order, grumbled for you to make out and pass on to the cashier. It slowly becomes unbearable as you walk back home.

As you leave the city, you let out Decidueye to feed him as Guzma releases Masquerain. You glance over your shoulder at Guzma as he squats to let his Pokémon eat out of his hands. “Hala’s just trying to help.”

“Amazingly enough, it’s not helping.”

You turn back to Decidueye. “For what it’s worth, I thought it was a great battle.”

“Yeah?”

You smile. “I mean, dude, you went toe-to-toe with a kahuna and won. And he wasn’t going easy on you. That was most of the team he uses in the League.”

You don’t get a response, but when you glance over your shoulder again, there’s a small smile on his lips. A genuine one. He’s too busy petting Masquerain to notice you looking at him. When he starts to look up, you turn away, hoping you’ll catch him doing that more often.

 

Guzma goes back to bed when you get back to the house. You have more challengers to face today, so you get changed and head to the bathroom. You consider your face in the mirror. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put a little eyeliner on.

The day is fairly uneventful – Hala doesn’t mention this morning and you don’t quite feel like bringing it up either. Acerola gives you her customary squeeze-of-death hug and immediately notices your eyes. “Ooh, new make-up!”

“Just trying something out,” you tell her, wishing she’d stop talking about it. It’s not really a big deal, is it?

Olivia comes over then to look. Her make-up game is always on point, so you hope she’s not looking too closely at your lids. “It looks nice,” she says approvingly. “Have you ever thought about using different colored eyeliner?”

“Not really,” you admit.

“Well, if you ever need help picking something out, you know where to find me.” You wonder if Plumeria would get along with Olivia had things turned out differently. Then you start thinking.

After you’re done at the League, you head off to the desert again. This time when Plumeria opens the door, she’s fully dressed, her hair in its normal pigtails. You take note of her winged eyeliner and bright eyeshadow. “If you’re gonna ask about G, yeah, I texted him, and no, he didn’t answer.” She starts to shut the door.

“That’s actually not what I’m here for.” She opens the door again, one brow raised. “Could – could you teach me to do my eyes the way you do?”

She laughs. “I don’t think my look would exactly work on you.”

“Yeah, probably not, but –” You bite your lip. “I just… don’t really know what I’m doing with make-up.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in her bathroom, trying to mimic her confident movements to blend in two different colors of eyeshadow. Her neon shades look ridiculous on you. You step back to try to examine the effect and burst out laughing. Plumeria tries to hold it in but you can clearly hear her giggle. As you blot the eyeshadow away, you say, “So I heard you’re really good at wings.”

She shrugs. “I know my way around a brush.” Then she smirks. “Have someone you’re trying to impress?”

You flush. “I just think it’d be neat to learn.”

“Whatever you say.” She grabs a pencil-thin tube and pops off the cap before she grabs your chin in her hand. “Let me show you how you want it to look.”

 

When you walk in your door, Guzma’s relaxing on the couch, feet up on your coffee table. He looks up and his eyes widen as he looks over your face. “What happened to you?” His tone sounds positive. Mostly. You think.

You walk past him, trying not to give into the temptation to scratch where you can feel the eyeliner sitting on your skin. “Just trying something different.” It’s hard not to feel self-conscious; Plumeria had you practice a few times before she’d let you walk out the door, but you’re worried the lines are still wobbly or got smudged on the ride back.

You change back into casual clothes and start getting dinner ready. In the middle of it, you decide to make some brownies – it’s been a while since the last time you were able to bake something. You’re washing out the bowl you mixed everything in when you hear footsteps behind you.

Before you can turn around, you feel arms around your waist. You freeze as he presses his chin into your hair. “So, I’ve been noticing,” he says casually, “that you don’t try to deny it when I make jokes about you wanting to fuck me.”

You try to return to scrubbing out the bowl as if nothing unusual is happening, but your hands tremble. “No.”

“So that means…” His fingers brush up your sides. You’re not exactly touch-starved, but the way he’s holding you is making you feel… things.

You realize he’s waiting for you to end his sentence. You take a deep breath. You’re not quite sure you’re ready to have this conversation. “I am attracted to you.”

“Way to say it the most boring way possible.” You drop the bowl into the sink as he spins you around, looking into your eyes. You have to tilt your head high to return his gaze.

“What do you think of me?” you hesitantly ask.

One of his hands rubs its way up your back, making you shiver. “Thought you were cute the first time I saw you. Then you whooped my ass.” He presses you back into the counter. “And then you came to rescue that kid’s Yungoos, and you were standing there with your clothes all wet and your hair dripping in your face….” He brushes some stray strands of hair back behind your ear. “And I thought, yeah, I could see you under me.”

“Is that all?” you ask, almost a little disappointed. So he finds you sexy – it makes your insides curl with desire – but is that all it is?

He scrunches up his nose. “What do you mean, ‘is that all?’”

“You just think I’d be good for a quick fuck.”

He blinks. “No.” He cups your face in his big hand. You can feel the cold metal of his watch against your cheek. “I just figured I’d put the offer on the table, since you’re interested.”

You gulp. “I… I don’t think that’d be a great idea right now.” He gives you a confused look. “I’m not saying I don’t want to, but – things are just – you’re still –” It’s hard to get the words out with the way his eyes are boring into you.

You half-expect him to pull you in and kiss you. And you’re pretty damn sure you’d be into that, even with the rational side of your brain screaming that this is too much too fast. Instead, he lets go of you, though he does it reluctantly. “So that’s a no.”

“For now, yeah.” You look away. “I just – things need to settle down a little. The last few days have been kind of crazy.”

You turn and stare up at him as he says the last thing you’d expect to ever come out of his mouth. “Sorry.” He mumbles it out, clearly unused to thinking it, much less saying it.

“For what?” Why couldn’t he say that when he’s actually being a jackass?

He scratches his neck. You’re beginning to wonder if it’s a nervous habit. “I shouldn’t have – you didn’t – I’m sorry.”

Him standing in your personal space is beginning to get uncomfortable. “It’s fine.” He backs up off you and turns around. Before he leaves, you manage to say, “You’re not going to run off on me again, are you?”

He pauses. “You mean you want me to stay?”

You lean back against the counter. “I like having you around. Nice to feed more than just me and six starving Pokémon.”

He laughs before he returns to the living room.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Now things are awkward.

You don’t get Guzma up at the crack of dawn anymore, but he sometimes goes to see Hala by himself, eager to battle. It’s a nice change. He still gets the occasional odd look when you go with him to Iki Town, but people are slowly getting used to seeing him around, working with the kahuna.

You’ve started to keep space between the two of you, consciously trying not to touch Guzma. He gets a little weirded out when he notices you reaching toward him, then pulling away. In response, he occasionally wraps his arm around your shoulders or grabs your wrist when you’re standing near him. The touches feel like fire on your skin. You hesitantly shake him off most of the time.

One time when you pull your wrist out of his grip, he grabs your hand instead. “Would you mind explaining to me what the hell you’re doing?” he asks, annoyed.

You honestly have a hard time explaining it to yourself. “I just… I don’t want you to think…”

“What, you think you’re leading me on?” You nod. “Okay, look. We both know we like each other, we both know that sex is off the table right now. There. Does that make it okay?”

You thread your fingers between his. His hands are so big. “I… I guess so.”

He squeezes your hand. “I like it. When you touch me.” He seems almost embarrassed to say it, his cheeks a little flushed, looking away from you.

 

One day, you walk in after a morning at Mt. Lanikila and smell something sharp. Confused, you head towards the open bathroom door. Guzma’s got his shirt off, wearing gloves, looking at his watch in annoyance, with some kind of goop in his hair. He glances up, startled to see you.

“Uh, where did you get hair bleach from?” you ask, eying the bottles and packets littering the counter.

“I’m not completely fucking broke,” he says, annoyed. He turns around and lifts up the back of his hair, where the bleach is the spottiest. “Did I get anything on my undercut?”

It’s not so much of an undercut anymore, with how it’s grown out in the past few weeks. You decide not to mention going to the salon in town to get it fixed up. You reach for the brush he’s been using to coat his hair and fix up a few spots that are still an icky brown from a previous round of bleach. “So how much bleach do you have to use to get white?”

He groans. “You don’t want to know.”

“It’s not going to fuck up my bathroom, is it?”

“I know how to clean up,” he says. You trail your fingers through the black fuzz on the back of his neck, making his face flush. He bats your hand away. “Okay, touching there is off-limits.” You grin as he checks his watch again.

 

Things are heating up at the Pokémon League. Some of the original challengers are coming back to try for your title again, and they’ve obviously trained hard – you’re usually only left with one or two Pokemon conscious after the battle. Even Hau tries his hand again, and it ends up coming down to his Primarina against your Decidueye – about the only thing that lets you win is the type advantage. If you want to hold onto your title, you need to start training again.

You think about not doing it, about letting someone win and let you go back to being a normal trainer, but that feels unfair, somehow. If they’re working so hard to get better, why aren’t you?

You start making a trip up Routes 16 and 17, remembering seeing strong Pokémon on your way to Po Town. You have to admit, you’re also curious to see what Po Town’s like now that Team Skull is gone.

The place seems quiet at first, when you step up to where the barricade used to be. There aren’t any guards anymore. As you walk down the street, you see lights on in some of the houses – they must be flashlights or candles. So there are kids still here. Hm.

You see actual people when you come up to the mansion that served as Team Skull’s headquarters. It’s the one building with power on. Two teenage boys and one girl who looks a little younger stand in the yard outside the front door, one of the boys trying to smoke even in the pouring rain. They see you coming and shout “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You shrug. “I was just curious.”

“Well you better scram, lady, or we’ll pound you!” the girl says. You almost want to laugh at her high-pitched voice and the angry look on her face, until you realize how genuine the anger is.

Ignoring the warning, you ask, “So what are you all doing still hanging around here?”

“Waitin’ for the boss to come back,” the younger boy says. The older boy, the one trying to smoke, cuffs him. “What was that for?!” the kid asks, rubbing the back of his head.

“Don’t go tellin’ anyone anything!” the older boy says, giving you a suspicious look.

“You really think he’ll come back?” you ask, sad. Is that really what they want to go back to?

“’Course he will. G isn’t gonna go soft just like that,” the girl says, glaring at you.

“I hate to tell you, but he probably won’t.” At least, that’s what you hope. He hasn’t mentioned it much since he moved in.

The younger boy raises his fists as if he’s going to fight you. “What do you know?! He’s gonna get the gang back together and we’ll be better than ever!”

You decide trying to dissuade them is probably going to be a waste of your time. “Can I go in?” you ask, pointing at the building.

“What the hell for?” The older boy’s starting to get pissed now, too.

The younger boy looks up and seems to recognize you. “Hey, it’s that chick!”

“Which one?”

“The one who beat G!”

“Yeah, I did. Four times.” The kids look taken aback. “Now can I go in?”

“Y-you better not touch anything!” the girl shouts. She seems to have a certain amount of wary respect in her eyes now. Taking that as an okay, you step into the house.

Everything’s somehow in worse condition than the last time you were here. There’s more trash strewn around and no real semblance of order to anything. The carpets are ratty, stained and torn. The kids around give you withering stares, but you just look back, wondering how they can stand to live in this squalor? Is this really better than what’s waiting back at home?

You remember Guzma and realize for at least some of these kids, this really is the better option. Your heart sinks.

An older teenage girl grabs your arm as you head out onto the balcony. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t go in G’s room!”

You pull away from her. “What, did it fall off the building?” With how dilapidated the house is, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“You just – no one goes in G’s room!” she insists.

You shrug and step out again. Half of you wants to run over the roof and get this over with, while the rest of you knows that’s the way to hit a stray shingle and go for a tumble. You take a deep breath and make your way to where Guzma used to live.

The room has a musty smell to it, and everything’s coated in dust. They really haven’t gone in here. You examine the bottles on the shelves, hoping Guzma didn’t drink all this himself. Then again, the alternative is the kids drinking it, which sounds worse.

For a moment you take a seat on the “throne.” The arms have nail marks in the cloth. You cough a little from the dust you’ve kicked up by sitting down. It still smells a little like him. You wonder what it was like, commanding his team from here. Maybe it made him feel special. You glance down where the chest of Buginium Z used to be. This is the only change in the room, outside of Guzma’s personal belongings not being here; someone must have taken it.

You make your way out again and head to the outskirts of town. The lights in the old policy apartment are on. You knock on the door. If Nanu’s surprised when he opens it, he doesn’t show it. He points a thumb over his shoulder and moves back to his couch, surrounded by three Meowths. As soon as you sit down, a Meowth jumps into your lap, and another one brushes himself against your legs.

“How are things going now that Team Skull’s disbanded?” you ask.

Nanu gets out some Pokébeans to feed to the cats surrounding him. “Mostly the same. As long as those kids are around, I’m stuck out here.” He doesn’t seem upset by that. Then again, it’s hard to judge his moods.

“Have they been causing any more trouble?”

“Not really. They’re kind of aimless without either of their leaders around.” He looks up at you. “I’ve been hearing stories about the League Champion getting friendly with the ex-boss.”

How would stories have made it out here? Not many people know you live together. Maybe Hala’s been talking to him. “Like what?”

He shrugs and pets the Meowth curling up at his side. “Not much, really. Some surprise here and there about it.” He looks at you. “Is he treating you well?”

You flush. “He’s fine.”

“You let me know if he’s not.” Oh god, Nanu’s acting like he’s going to give Guzma the shovel talk.

You don’t stay for much longer, feeling like you’re imposing on his solitude. You make your way back through the routes to Aether House, fighting whatever wild Pokémon you can find along the way. People don’t really want to battle as much now that they know you’re the champion. It annoys you a little; you haven’t really changed since you took the title, have you?

When you get back home, it’s late evening, and you don’t exactly feel like cooking. It’s nice to see the lights on in your house – coming home to an empty, dark house before was always so unwelcoming. You let Arcanine and Decidueye out and walk in, waving to Guzma.

“What were you up to?” he asks, sitting up straight. It looked like he might have been dozing off.

“Training.” You’re not sure how to explain to him about Po Town. You’re not entirely sure why you went yourself. You yawn. “You mind if I order a pizza?”

“I’m not about to complain.” You call in your order and then slump next to him on the couch, leaning on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist. “Something wrong?” he asks.

You’re quiet for a minute. “You know there are still kids living in Po Town?” He stiffens. “They’re… they’re waiting for you to come back.”

“That’s where you went?”

“Nanu says they’re not getting up to any trouble.” You pull your knees up and wrap your arms around them. “I wonder how they’re feeding themselves.”

He hesitates. “There was some money left over. From the Aether Foundation.”

You glance up at him. “You left it all there?”

“Not all of it. I still needed something to live on. But…” He’s rubbing his hand up and down your side. “I couldn’t just leave ‘em with nothing.”

“Did you know they were going to stay there?”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Those kids… a lot of ‘em don’t have much of a home to go back to.”

“Plumeria told me once they were her little brothers and sisters.” You smile at the memory. “Wonder if she ever visits.”

“Probably. She doesn’t live too far.” He falls silent for a while. Your mind is drifting away when he says, “I should go see her.”

“Wanna go tomorrow?”

“Whoa, hold up. That’s a little soon.”

“Why not?” You take his other hand, tracing along his wrist with your finger. “I think she misses you.”

He thinks for a bit. “Yeah, I guess tomorrow would work,” he says, shrugging.

 

You don’t have any challengers the next day, so you spend your morning cleaning the house. Guzma, thankfully, joins in a little, cleaning out the bathroom. You think he still feels guilty for spilling bleach on the floor. When you look in on him, he’s giving the toilet a thorough scrub. “You sure you’re getting every inch of it?”

“Try living in a house with twenty little shits using the same three toilets,” he says irritably back. “Then you’ll appreciate it.”

“House rules: break whatever you want, except the fucking toilet.”

“I didn’t need to kick their asses too much, but skipping bathroom duty? No way.” He straightens up, popping his back in the process. “You learn what you can live with and what you can’t that way.”

You leave for the mobile home park in early afternoon. Thankfully, the Charizard saddles are made to seat two people, so the ride isn’t uncomfortable, but Guzma takes the opportunity riding behind you to hold on to you tight and press his face into your hair. You’re pretty sure the windburn isn’t the only reason your face is red when you land.

You don’t intend to stick around; you’re going to go into the desert to train so they can have some private time. You watch him and make sure he actually knocks on the door before you walk off. You hear an angry shout and turn around to see Plumeria launch herself at Guzma. For a moment you’re worried, until you realize that’s her way of hugging him, and he’s hugging right back. You smile as you turn away again.

It’s a quiet day in the desert. No one else really seems to be around. You packed three water bottles but it’s so hot that you’ve downed the first bottle in the first hour you wander around. Arcanine is happy as can be, but none of your other Pokémon are too thrilled to be training out here.

After a couple of hours and the start of a sandstorm, you decide enough’s enough and start to head back. You need air conditioning, stat. You try to retrace your steps, but something seems off – the landmarks don’t look quite right. You make it back to what should be the entrance and only see more sand flying through the air past the rocks. You hold out your ride pager and call a Charizard, but after fifteen minutes, none come. Worried, you hit a few of the other buttons. No Pokémon are coming to you. Uh-oh.

It’ll be a hot ride, but you climb up on Arcanine – she can move faster than you can. The problem is she’s already worn out from battling and you’re not sure the potions you have on hand can help with pure fatigue. You check your bag – you’re down to half a water bottle and you didn’t bring any human food with you, not expecting to be out too long.

As the sun starts to go down, your panic rises. Where the hell is the exit?! Everything’s starting to look the same, especially through the sand whipping across your face and limbs. You frantically mash the call button on your ride pager but there’s no response. You don’t remember having this much trouble the first time you came through here – but wasn’t there some trick to keeping track of where you were in the desert?

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Arcanine is exhausted now. You put her up, tears stinging your eyes as you look around. What can you even do now? You follow the rock walls until you find a relatively sheltered spot and curl up by yourself, not wanting to subject your Pokémon to this torture. You rock back and forth, trying to keep your breath steady as your mind overwhelms itself with anxiety. At least you told Guzma where you were going -  but how’s he supposed to find you?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, updates may slow down a little this week - I have to go to work and I have other projects I'm working on. (I'm jumping into D'n'D as a first-time DM and I really need to get my initial campaign planned better, yikes.)
> 
> Also, this fic makes assumptions about the Pokemon world that may seem a touch odd at first, but I wasn't totally sure how to handle them. Like the fact that there are no doctor's offices or hospitals around. (Honestly, it's amazing that Alola has an organized police force, considering how often people rely on 11-year-olds to take on gangs.) So the Pokemon Center is seen kind of as a quick first-aid stop or an emergency room for trainers here.

You wake up to a calm desert, not knowing when you fell asleep. You take a few sips from your water bottle, already feeling the heat from the day getting to you. It’s getting near empty – you’re going to be in deep trouble fast if you can’t get out of here.

You pull out your ride pager again and give it a click, just to see, but again, no Pokémon arrive. Maybe the sandstorm messed with its reception – but it should be working again by now. You slap it against your palm a few times on the off-chance it’ll jostle a circuit back into place or something – you really should picked up more on how electronics work before now.

Considering your options doesn’t leave you feeling confident. You could try wandering around again and finding the way out yourself – but then you could wander deeper into the desert and make it harder for people to find you, and there’s more of a risk of heat exposure. You could also stay here, as out of the heat as you can get, but the position also makes you more difficult to find.

You decide to take your chances walking – you got yourself into this mess, why can’t you get yourself out? Besides, if you’re out in the open, you may get spotted by Pokémon looking for you.

A few hours later, you’re just as lost as you were before, and now you don’t have any water. You keep trying your ride pager, but nothing happens. The only Pokémon you’ve seen are wild ones, and your own Pokémon are getting worn out fighting them. At one point you have your Lanturn spray you down using Water Gun, trying desperately to alleviate the heat, but it doesn’t do much. And you’re not quite sure you trust that the water he makes is clean enough to drink, though you think more about trying it the more your mouth dries out.

Eventually you crawl under a rock outcropping, trying to catch any shade it’ll give you, starting to get dizzy. You let Lanturn out long enough to spray you down again – you try to hold up a water bottle and fill it, but the force of the move knocks you off your feet and the bottle out of your hands. You gulp up what little you can get in your mouth, but it doesn’t really seem to change anything.

You curl up into a ball, screwing your eyes shut and hoping that being out of direct sunlight will help your head stop pounding. Occasionally you look up to the sky, hoping to see a Charizard overhead.

Eventually, you do see something flying overhead – it’s flying too high and too close to the sun to make it out properly. You do your best to get to your feet and wave at it frantically, muscles feeling heavy in your arms as you lift them. It flies back towards where it came from, and you try to follow, but it moves too fast. You drop to your knees, trying not to cry, though you feel so dried out you’re not sure you could.

It feels like hours pass, though Plumeria tells you later that it was only about thirty minutes, before something happens. You squint into the distance and see hazy figures on the horizon. Hoping it's not just a mirage, you get to your feet and - well, you can't run, exactly, you're too tired, but you make your way toward them as quickly as you can. The figures grow larger and eventually clearer - it's Plumeria and Guzma, with a Crobat leading them.

You stagger forward, but the dizziness is getting stronger - it's getting difficult to stay upright. When Guzma gets to you, you try to hug him, but you more or less fall against him, making him stumble back as he wraps his arms around you. His body heat is almost too much to take in this weather, but you don't want to let go.

When you finally do pull away, Plumeria hands you a bottle. “Drink it slow,” she warns as you open it. It's just plain water, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever tasted. It's hard to resist the impulse to swallow half the bottle in one go.

“You are a fucking idiot,” Guzma says. Plumeria yanks his sleeve - he's not wearing his jacket, smart – but he keeps going. “Didn't you say you've been out here before?!”

“Yeah, a month ago,” you say weakly. Your head still hurts, and now your stomach's starting to cramp.

“And you didn't fucking remember how to get through it?”

You're too tired to be angry back at him. “I thought I did. And I thought my damn ride pager would work.” You fumble it out of your pocket and try again, just for good measure.

Guzma grabs you by the shoulders. His fingers clamp down hard enough to hurt. “You _thought_ you knew?!”

Plumeria gets herself between the two of you and tries to shove Guzma away. “Shut UP, G! Look at her, she's sick!” He starts to yell something back, but she shouts over him. “We need to get her back to a Pokécenter NOW! Throw a hissy fit later!” Guzma lets go, grumbling.

You try walking at first, but it isn't long before it becomes obvious that you're too sick and worn out to keep up. Guzma tries to be a hero and pick you up, but even with his strength, a human body proves too heavy for him to carry for more than a few minutes. He gets out Golisopod and helps you scramble up his back, holding on for dear life. At first you're creeped out, but it's quickly replaced with relief (and a little more nausea) when he proves to be much faster than you. Plumeria's Crobat flies overhead, providing as much shade as it can.

The trek out of the desert and out to Tapu Village, where the nearest Pokécenter is, is long and rough. You have to stop every once in a while to keep yourself from vomiting up what little you have in your system. As you keep drinking, your head clears, but it's going to be a while before before you feel anything like normal.

When you get to the Pokécenter, your Pokémon are immediately taken to be treated, while you're pulled to the back offices and medical rooms for tests. Soon they have you lying on a hospital bed without blankets, sucking on ice chips while you wait to get your Pokémon back. Once the nurse leaves, you’re left with Guzma and Plumeria.

Guzma folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall. “Next time, make sure you actually know where the fuck you’re going.”

Plumeria responds with an almost automatic, “Shut up, G.”

“She just-”

Plumeria opens the door and shoves him toward it. “Go cool off,” she tells him, shutting the door loudly after him. She turns back to you, trying to smile even though she's upset. “Ignore him. He gets angry when he's upset.”

You shrug. “He's not wrong.”

“Don't say that!” She sighs. “Okay, it was a little stupid, but you did have a back-up plan.”

“That failed miserably.” You wonder what the issue is; was the reception knocked out by the sandstorm, or did something go wrong with the pager?

“I'm just glad you're safe.”

You try to laugh. “Remember when you hated my guts a month ago?”

Now she's actually smiling. It's a nice look on her. “I wouldn't say that. You were a pain in our asses, sure, but little miss goody-two-shoes wasn't all that bad.” Her smile turns into a smirk. “You drove G crazy, though. Took a few days to get him to shut up about beating your ass the first time you guys battled.”

“So he’s always had a thing for me?” you ask, rolling your eyes.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Plumeria comes over and sits on the bed with you. “You shoulda seen him when he thought I was up for grabs. Can’t hide his feelings at all.”

“I don’t think he’s gotten any better at that.”

She laughs. “He’s always been like a big kid. Just reacts immediately to whatever hits him.” She looks at you. “It’s kinda nice not to have to take care of him anymore.”

“So you really were team mom, huh?”

“Team big sis.” She considers you. “I think you and Hala are doing him good. He’s a little calmer now.”

“Except when his…” You’re about to say ‘girlfriend,’ but the word doesn’t feel right. You start thinking about it. What are you, really? It’s not exactly just friendship, but it hasn’t really crossed into romantic territory, and you’re definitely avoiding the ‘friends with benefits’ thing.

“When his what?”

You settle for something neutral. “When his roommate goes for a hike in the desert.”

“Stop beating yourself up. Shit happens.” She shrugs. “This happens every once in a while – the sandstorms get really bad. I’m surprised they don’t give trainers more warnings before sending kids out there.” She starts kicking her feet. You wonder for a moment how old she is. Can’t be much past 18. What drove her to Team Skull? That’s probably too much to ask for now. “They really should move the Pokemon Center back towards the desert. Tapu Village isn’t that far away.”

“They were probably thinking they weren’t too far from the desert when they built Tapu Village.” You lay back, thinking again. “Have you been back to Po Town?”

The question catches her off-guard. “A couple times, yeah. I feel kinda guilty when they ask me to stay again. But I can’t run a team like that. I don’t get how G did.”

“Sounds like a lot of work. Especially herding teenagers.”

“Eh, that wasn’t the bad part, really. Everyone wanted to work together. It was usually getting things we needed, like, really needed, that was an issue.” She looks off at the wall. “Then that Lusamine chick started stringin’ G along and suddenly we had more than enough to get by. It’d be hard to get by without having that money. And I’m pretty sure we couldn’t get away with stealing as much, especially with Nanu on our asses.”

“I just feel bad. Is there really nowhere else they can go?”

“Not really.” Plumeria’s looking at her feet. “I feel a little bad for having somewhere to go back to. Mom pretty much grounded me when she found out what happened, and I got my ride pager taken away, but at least I have a place to sleep. Even if it kinda sucks.”

You fall quiet for a while. Your headache is almost totally gone and you feel like you could probably walk straight for a few minutes if you tried. Eventually Plumeria asks, “Can you keep a secret?”

“What’s up?”

“I… I wanna try challenging the League.” She gives you an uncertain look. “I mean, is that okay? You’re the champ, so…”

You sit up and hug her, but you let go pretty quickly when you realize she’s completely stiffened. Must not be used to sudden attacks of hugging. “Go right ahead! You don’t need me to give you the okay!”

“I mean, I was in Team Skull, so I dunno what they’ll say when I try…”

“Fuck what they think! Come up there and beat the shit out of me!”

She’s about to say more when the nurse pops her head in. “You have another visitor!”

“Who?” Seriously, who even knows you’re here?

Professor Kukui sticks his head in and shouts, “Alola!” He just chuckles when the nurse tries to shush him.

Plumeria rolls her eyes and gets up, throwing a “Smell you later” over her shoulder as she leaves.

Kukui watches her go. “You’ve been making interesting friends!”

“You can say that again,” you say, smiling. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, you don’t think. You wonder what he’d think about Guzma living so nearby – you’ve been trying to keep your talks with Hala private, not wanting to draw too much attention to having Guzma living with you.

“So what happened?” he asks.

You try to keep your explanation short. When you finish, he says, “Whoa, that stinks. I tried calling you a few times when you didn’t show up this morning, but the reception was pretty bad.”

“I didn’t even notice.” You get out your Pokédex and check it, seeing the missed calls registered to it. “Sorry.” You then realize you missed challengers today and groan. “Geez, I really screwed up the League today, didn’t I?”

“It wasn’t too bad.” He puts his hands behind his head. You stare at his face pointedly, wishing he would put on a shirt for once. “Just a reminder we need to be prepared for days when people get sick or emergencies happened.” He frowns at you. “It does mean the schedule’s gonna be packed when you get back, though.”

“I’m coming back tomorrow,” you assure him.

He shakes his head. “No way. You got heat exhaustion _and_ dehydration, which, well, it’s hard to get heat exhaustion without being dehydrated by the process, but. What I’m saying is, stay home for a few days.”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, getting to your feet. It doesn’t help your case when your muscles turn out to be weaker than you thought and you stumble back onto the bed. Kukui grabs your arm to try to steady you. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Trust me, you’ll be better off for it. People can wait.”

“Thanks.” You sit back on the bed, wondering when you’ll get out of here. “Sorry about all this.”

“Hey, stuff happens! I’m just glad you’re alright!” You blink as he says the exact same thing Plumeria just told you. “Just get yourself feeling better!” He turns to go, then stops. “You need anyone to help you out at home? I think Lillie wouldn’t mind coming over for a while. She’s been meaning to invite you over for tea.”

“I’m good.” You should probably tell him… “Lillie can totally come over if she wants! But, uh, I’ve got someone staying with me right now.”

“Oh? Someone from back home?” You can tell he already wants to meet the mystery person. His overly friendly nature is charming sometimes.

“N-no.” You swallow hard. “Guzma.”

He looks stunned for a moment. “How’d _that_ happen?” His tone doesn’t really sound negative. You think.

What does he know about Guzma’s situation? You know they grew up together, but… “He was living with his parents, but, um, some stuff happened. So he’s staying with me for now.” You don’t quite feel like mentioning the mess that is your not-quite-whatever relationship with him to the professor.

“Is that… going okay?” This is the first time you’ve ever heard Kukui sound unsure about something.

“I think so, yeah.” You sit back, starting to feel tired again. This day’s really taken it out of you. “He should be in the Center, if you want to talk to him.”

“I might just do that.” You suddenly wonder whether it was a good idea to let Kukui knows Guzma’s here. They weren’t exactly on great terms the last time you saw them together. “Well, I need to head out. Hope you’re feeling better!”

“Thanks.” You lay back as he leaves. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a nap…

You’re occasionally woken by nurses checking in on you, but you’re allowed to sleep a few hours away. Finally, once night’s fallen, they deem you well enough to go home, and give you similar warnings to Kukui’s about taking it easy for a little while.

Guzma’s not inside the lobby of the Pokémon Center when you come out. You find him outside, hanging off to the side of the building with his Ariados. Hopefully people haven’t been getting on his case. (He’s squatting. You hope he hasn’t been sitting like that for long – how can his legs stand it?) He glares up at you. “Did you sic Kukui on me?”

“Uh, not on purpose.” Except you kind of totally did, whoops.

“Fuckin’ prick.”

“I think he was just worried about you.”

“Uh, yeah, I think he was more worried about _you_.” He straightens up, and you think you hear his knees creak. “Can’t go losing his precious first champion.” He’s not as angry as he was before, but there’s still a certain amount of venom in his voice.

“Where’s Plumes?” you ask, trying to get to a happier subject.

“She went home. Said she’ll come over in the next couple days.”

“Sounds good.” You shift awkwardly. “I think I’m ready to go home too.”

“Good. I hate this place.”

You try pressing your ride pager again, and again no Pokémon show up. You head back into the Pokémon Center, hoping they have a replacement. Taking the long way home, by boat, really doesn’t sound appealing.

Thankfully they keep a small stock of pagers around just in case this sort of thing happens. They register a new pager to your Trainer Passport ID and finally you’re on your way. On the ride home, Guzma seems to curl himself around you, almost feeling protective as he hangs tight onto your waist. When you get into the house, you’re a little sad to see him retreat to the couch without saying much. Lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, it feels… lonely.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said updates might slow down? Turns out I can get more done in a day than I expected. XD
> 
> The longer I write this, the more I wish I wrote it in first person - I feel like I'm giving "you" almost a little too much character? I have no idea if I'm doing this right. Would a backstory for the protag bother anyone?

In the morning, your alarm goes off at the normal time. You grunt and turn it off, rolling over in bed and wishing you’d remembered to turn it off. The doctor had told you yesterday not to exercise too much until you were sure you were better, especially not outside, so you’re not going to see Hala today. Without much thought, you close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Much later in the morning, you’re woken by Decidueye softly hooting in your ear. You brush him away but he keeps going, getting louder. Then you hear a knock on the door. Annoyed, you go to open it, seeing Guzma standing awkwardly in the doorway, hands in his pockets. He left his hoodie at Plumeria’s and he seems smaller without it. “You okay?” he asks, quieter than usual.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling a little naked just standing there in an old tank-top and loose shorts. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t seen you in your “pajamas” before. “Fine. Why?”

“You slept way later than normal.” His hand goes to the back of his neck. “I just… y’know.”

You don’t know, really. “You were worried?”

“I guess.” He shifts uncomfortably, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re allowed to tell me that.”

“Look, um – you want breakfast?”

“Sure.” You start to shut the door. “Let me get dressed.”

When you head into the dining room, there’s a glass of water sitting on the table. You’re starting to get sick of the stuff but you start sipping on it anyways, listening to Guzma doing whatever the hell he’s up to in the kitchen. You figured he was just going to grab a couple bowls of cereal or something.

You’re a little surprised when he comes out with plates of eggs and bacon. “You know how to cook?”

“Is it really a big deal?” he grumbles as he sets one in front of you. You end up wolfing down most of the food, not realizing how hungry you were. They’d only let you eat small snacks yesterday, worrying you’d get nauseous again if you ate too much. “Take it easy, shit,” he says when he sees you’re almost done.

When you go to clean up the dishes, he follows you, watching you from the door as you work. “I’m not gonna fall over and break,” you tell him, annoyed. He leaves, mumbling under his breath.

He scoots over when you sit on the couch next to him, leaving you space. You move to sit next to him and take his hand. “What are we, exactly?” you ask, running your fingers over the lines on his palm.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not exactly just roommates. Bit too touchy-feely for that.” You glance up at him. “Unless you’re like this with all your friends.”

“Because I’ve had so many friends and roommates to compare to.”

“You know what I mean.” You glance up and down his arms. He’s got a light tan, like most people in Alola. His bruises have completely faded. “Besides, didn’t you live with, like, twenty other kids? You know how being a roommate works.”

“Not when my ‘roommate’ is the one who owns the house and can kick me out whenever the fuck she wants.”

“Do you really think I’m going to do that to you?” You interlock your fingers with his.

It takes him a moment to finally mutter out, “Probably not.”

“I won’t.” You let go of his hand. “Even if you tell me you don’t – don’t like me the same way I like you.”

“You sound like a little kid, geez. Do you like me or like like me?” He takes hold of your hand and runs his thumb over your palm.

You lean into him. “Well, I’m not really used to figuring things like this. I’m used to getting asked out on a few dates and having it pretty clear where we are, not… this.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks softly.

You think about it. “This works. I just want to know what ‘this’ is.” You sigh. “I mean, are we just overly affectionate? Or – or is this turning into a boyfriend/girlfriend thing? Does that mean taking it farther?”

“How much farther?” His thumb gliding over your hand is sending little sparks up your arm; you have to keep yourself from shivering.

He’s leaning down, looking at you, uncertain. You sit up and press your forehead against his, listening to him breathe. He twists his head and pushes forward, but stops before his lips meet yours. You run your free hand up his neck, through the fuzz of his undercut, and pull him closer.

He’s gentler than you would have thought he’d be, his lips just grazing over yours at first. Then he catches your lower lip between his and nips it. It doesn’t take long for you to open your mouth. His tongue slips inside, exploring before tangling with yours. You push both hands into his unruly white hair, making him give a little groan. One of his hands sits between your shoulder blades, while the other slides down to the small of your back, holding you close. When you have to back off for just a moment to catch your breath, he looks into your eyes and grins before you kiss again.

It gets a bit hard to concentrate on what you’re doing when you feel your Pokédex vibrate in your pocket. You try to just ignore it and keep going, but then it starts vibrating repeatedly; someone’s calling you. Reluctantly, you pull away and pull the Dex out of your pocket. “It’s Lillie. I really should answer this.”

Guzma leans back, disentangling himself from you. “Go right ahead.” He’s trying to look cool, like nothing just happened, but he’s still flushed red and his hair is much more of a mess than usual from having your fingers running through it.

You open the call up. Lillie’s sitting with Professor Kukui’s Rockruff in her lap, panting happily. You hope you’re not panting too hard yourself. “Alola!”

“Hey, Lillie!”

“Um, Professor Kukui said it was okay for me to come visit you?” Her free hand is twisted into Rockruff’s fur, almost like she’s nervous. Why would she be?

“Of course! When were you thinking?”

“Around two, maybe? I could bring over some tea.”

You smile at her. “That’d be great.”

“The professor told me what happened yesterday. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. See you later, okay?”

She smiles back and nods. “Two o’clock!” The call ends.

You look over at Guzma. He’s leaning toward you with one arm behind your back. You glance up before he can move and see that he was giving you bunny ears. “Who’s the kid now?” you ask, shoving his arm away from you.

He laughs and pushes you back. “C’mon, y’all were being too cutesy!”

You grab his shirt and pull him in, kissing him hard. He responds in kind, biting at your lower lip, tongue much more aggressive as it pushes into your mouth.

When you pull back for air, he tries to follow you. You hold your hand up and get your breath back before you ask, “So what does this make us now?” One eyebrow raises. He’s really good at that, almost like a cartoon character. “You know – I mean –”

“You want to call me your boyfriend, I’m good with that.” He pushes one hand up through your hair, rubbing your scalp. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine.”

You think, as you lean in again, that you can be happy with that.

 

When the clock hits two, you hope Lillie hasn’t somehow managed to get lost on the short route between your house and the professor’s lab. You feel bad thinking it, but with some of the ways she’s gotten lost in the past, you always worry just a little bit.

Guzma’s out somewhere in the yard, playing with his Pokémon. It took quite a while for you to stop making out, but finally you’d managed to pull yourself away and tell him you really needed to straighten out the house before Lillie came over. And even when you were doing that, you ended up wandering over to the couch on occasion and snagging a quick kiss. You feel like you’ve turned into a horny teenager all over again.

There’s a quiet knock on the door. You open it and give Lillie a fierce hug – this girl needs all the hugs she can get. That feels true of a lot of people you know now, actually. You nearly knock the plate she’s carrying out of her hands. “What’s this?” you ask, catching it.

“I thought I’d make some cookies! It’s a recipe that’s popular in Kalos. I read about them in a magazine.” She takes the plate back from you and heads to the dining room, setting them on your table, then reaches in her bag and hands you her stash of tea.

You chatter for a while about this and that, catching up with what she’s been doing for the past few weeks. Turns out a lot of it is more research for Kukui and Burnet – they’ve taken her on as an assistant pretty seriously. “Professor Burnet wants to talk to you and, um, Mr. Guzma about what it was like in Ultra Space.” You’re just surprised she hasn’t approached you already.

She’s getting ready to leave when Guzma walks in. You look at him, confused; he’d acted earlier like he didn’t want to see her. Now he’s staring at her, speaking to her directly. “Hey, ki – Lillie,” he says, and you can tell he’s out of his depth. He may know how to handle teenagers, but he doesn’t seem to get kids.

“Y-yes?” Lillie looks nervous. You remember the conversation you had with her a while back and wonder what she’s thinking now.

“I – I just wanted to say –” He stops. It’s like the words got stuck in his throat. Finally he says, very fast, “Sorry about the kidnapping thing.”

She starts to say, “It’s okay,” when he continues.

“You’re a good kid. You didn’t deserve a mom like that.” The words sound pained coming out of his mouth. Is he really talking to her, or himself?

“U-um, thanks?” Lillie turns to you, unsure of what to do.

You’re not sure either, so you roll with your instincts and hug her again. “It’s good to see you. Come over anytime.”

“Thanks,” she says, regaining her smile. “See you soon!” And with that she’s gone. You watch her out the front door until she disappears down the hill.

When you turn around, Guzma’s on the couch again, one knee pulled up to his chest. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You sit next to him. “I think it was sweet.”

“She was scared shitless!”

“Well, if she’s going to see me, she’ll probably have to get used to you eventually.” You lean into him. “That was good. Stop worrying about it.” You take his hand again, tracing your fingers up and down his arm. “You didn’t deserve your dad, either.” He tries to laugh and chokes on it. You look up at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whatever.” He bends over you and says quietly, “Help me get things off my mind?” You pull his head down to kiss him again.

 

After laying around yesterday and all of today, you feel frustrated, wanting to do _something_ but not knowing what. So you head to your bedroom, dust off your old 3DS, and bring it out to the living room, throwing your legs over Guzma’s lap after you sit down.

“You didn’t say you played video games!” he says, sounding as if you’ve hidden something truly serious from him.

You shrug. “Not much. Mostly puzzle games. And Phoenix Wright.”

“Huh. I think those came out over here, like, a year ago.”

“What?”

“They have some weird rules about bringing games over here sometimes. Like, Madworld and No More Heroes were completely banned back when the Wii was still big. And they take a long time to import some things.”

“So you’ve never played Phoenix Wright.”

“Nope.”

You run back to your room and dig through your things until you find your games. Most things are in haphazard order from you trying to just clean out your moving boxes; you really should go through and organize things. But for now, you find what you were looking for.

You triumphantly dump your game case and the 3DS in Guzma’s lap. “You are playing them. Right now.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I’ll never turn down a video game, but seriously?”

“Seriously. You have not lived until you have experienced this shit.” You pop in the cart and turn the game on. “And the first case is really easy so I’m not giving you any hints. And you have to play with the music on, and – does the 3DS have a microphone?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well if it does, you shout ‘Objection!’ or ‘Hold it!’ into it. That is a requirement.” He stares at you. “Seriously. It’s more fun that way.”

The first few minutes have his eyebrows rising even further. “They named a character Larry _Butz_?”

“It gets even better. Just wait for it.”

“Better, she says,” he mutters as he continues.

You watch perched over his shoulder as he reads through the witness testimony, so tempted to shout the answer when he doesn’t quite get the first non-tutorial clue. You squeeze his arm when he gets things, wrong, to the point where he asks, “Are you trying to strangle my elbow?” He laughs when you cheer as he finishes the case. “This game is STUPID,” he announces, immediately hopping into the second case.

He’s already on the third case by the time you’re ready to go to bed. He shouts, “Hey!” when you take it from him and turn it off.

To make up for it, you lean in and kiss him. “I like being able to do this whenever I want,” you tell him when you pull away.

“It’s great,” he says as he pulls you back in.

Eventually you manage to drag yourself off him long enough to say, “I’m going to bed.”

“Sucks.” He leans in again, but you turn your head, causing him to kiss your cheek instead. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking – maybe this is too soon, but…”

“But what?”

“Sleep with me tonight?” You squeal as he surges forward and mashes his lips against yours. You push him off you, laughing. “Not sexually!”

“Hell yeah,” he says, pulling you in again.

Somehow you make it back to the bedroom. It takes a while for the two of you to calm down, but at some point you manage to fall asleep with your head pressed into his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to pause and give thanks for all the positive words y'all have given me. Even the few critical comments have been constructive and thought-worthy feedback. I'm basically just writing this story for me and I never expected it to grab the attention of so many people.
> 
> Someone was asking if I had a tumblr - I actually have two. www.priellan.tumblr.com is my safe-for-work general purpose and art blog, and www.irinokat.tumblr.com is my nsfw blog. (I don't really update much unless I feel like taking writing prompts, though.)
> 
> Now I feel I need to give some warnings for this chapter - there's a good bit of violence, physical, verbal, and emotional, and talking about unhealthy relationships. No one really gets physically hurt (okay, well, one character gets a little roughed up), at least. If you think that might trigger you, please feel free to pull away and leave this fic alone or come back when you're more prepared to deal with it.

When you wake up, you’re a little too warm and you’re pressed up against something hard. You open your eyes to find yourself looking at Guzma’s shirt and remember yesterday. You happily give him a squeeze and close your eyes, trying to go back to sleep – it looks like he’s not getting up anytime soon.

Twenty minutes later, it’s pretty obvious you’re awake for good. You sigh and wriggle out of Guzma’s hold, hoping you don’t wake him up. He says something incomprehensible and rolls over as you leave the room.

It’s been a couple days since you’ve taken Arcanine out for a real run, or let any of your Pokemon out, really. You let her out and walk to the beach, taking your time, trying not to over-exert yourself, just in case the moratorium on exercise is still in place.

It’s after sunrise and Hala’s long gone, but it’s still too early for most of the tourists to be out. Having the beach to yourself, you sit down and let all your Pokemon go. Decidueye and Mimikyu cuddle up to you for attention. Arcanine plays in the waves while Lanturn tries to squirt her. Hariyama tries to start a sparring match, but when he can’t manage to egg Kadabra out of his meditation, he plops down next to you, causing the ground to shake.

For a while, sitting in the sand, letting the waves lap at your feet is pleasant, but as the temperature rises, you’re reminded uncomfortably of the desert escapade. Sighing, you put everyone up again and head back, hoping you’ll be able to tolerate it more after you’re done resting up.

When you get back, Guzma’s standing in the dining room, looking tired and grumpy. “Where were you?” he asks, rubbing his eye.

“Went out for a bit,” you tell him as you head to the kitchen. “Hungry?”

“You know you’re not supposed to be doing stuff like that.”

“I think walking down to the beach isn’t gonna kill me.”

“Your funeral,” he says, sitting down at the table.

The morning passes pretty quietly, you reading a book and Guzma still playing the game. Plumeria calls around noon and says she’s heading to the marina to come visit. You’re looking forward to it, but suddenly you’re feeling wiped. You lay your head in Guzma’s lap for a nap. “What did I tell you?” he says, twisting his fingers into your hair.

“Needing a nap is not a big deal,” you mumble back, closing your eyes.

Maybe an hour later, you hear a knock at the door, waking you up. You squeeze your eyes shut and ignore it. It can’t be Plumes, the ride from Ula’Ula to Melemele takes too long for her to already be here, and you don’t know who else it could be.

When the knock comes again, Guzma puts the 3DS down and gently slides himself out from under you, thinking you’re still asleep. When he answers the door, instead of saying hello or the person outside greeting him, there’s silence for a moment. Then he says, “Mom?”

Your eyes shoot open. What’s his mother doing here? Is this a bad thing? He’s never really talked about his mother much – you don’t know what role she’s played in his life. Should you get up and help? Should you go to your room and let them talk alone?

He steps out onto the porch instead of letting her in. They speak quietly enough that you don’t really understand what they’re saying from your position on the couch, until Guzma loudly says, “No.”

“He’s really worried about you,” his mother says back, her own voice getting louder.

“No.”

“If you would just apologize to him –”

“If _I_ apologize?!” He’s getting pissed now. You sit up, unsure if you should do anything.

“You hurt him pretty badly, you know.”

“What about _me_?” His voice keeps rising.

“I’m sure he’ll apologize too, if you just –”

“No!”

Silence falls. They speak quietly for another moment, then Guzma reenters the house, holding a large cardboard box. He kicks the door shut behind him and throws the box onto the coffee table. Then he grabs a pillow off the couch and hurls it at the opposite wall. Thankfully it doesn’t hit anything until it collides with the wall and slides down.

“Hey!” You grab him as his fists clench. “Calm down!”  He growls at you, his arms tensing up under your fingers. “I get it, you’re angry, but that shit’s not okay.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” he snarls. His muscles are so tight he feels like he might snap if you put any more pressure on him, but you hold on anyway.

“I don’t know! Just – just…” His breath is coming out harsh and fast. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”

At first he won’t listen, but after you take a couple of deep breaths, he screws his eyes shut and tries to drag in more air. After a few minutes, you’re breathing almost in sync, and his arms are relaxing a fraction.

You guide him to the couch and get him to sit down. His hands are still balled into fists, but at least his knuckles aren’t white anymore. “You want to talk about it?”

“No.” He starts to run his fingers through his hair. When he starts to pull, you grab his wrists. “Would you stop trying to control me?!”

“I’m not trying to – I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He glares up at you, but he pulls his hands down, at least. “Do you want to go for a run?”

He laughs at that, bitter, angry laughter. “You really think I do shit like that?”

“I’m just trying to think of ways to work it off.”

He smirks. “Wanna fuck?”

Now you’re starting to get angry. “No. I meant good ways. And besides, Plumes is probably gonna be here soon.”

“Battle me.”

There are so many ways that could go wrong. “No.”

“Why not, afraid I’ll beat you?” He’s trying to taunt you, to piss you off too.

“And how’ll you react if you lose?”

“You mean _when_ I lose.” He scowls up at you.

“No, I mean if.”

“You beat my ass in every time we battle.”

“If you’re so sure, then why do you even want to try?” This is getting so frustrating.

“Because.”

“That’s a shitty reason and you know it.”

“Maybe I’ll go find someone I _can_ give a beat-down to, then.” Before you can stop him, he’s on his feet and out the door. You think about following, but considering how that just went, you don’t think anything you could say would get him to calm down.

Instead you head out to Hau’oli City’s marina. At least you can wait for Plumeria to get here. She might have an idea of what to do.

You’re surprised when she gives you a hug as she hops off the boarding plank. “You look better,” she says when she pulls back. “Well, you don’t look like you’re dying. What’s up?” She glances around. “Where’s G?”

“Pissed off somewhere.”

“He’s in one of his moods, isn’t he?” The two of you start to walk away.

At first you feel like it isn’t your business to tell her, but she’s his best friend and she’s seen him like this before. She knows about his family. “His mom came over.”

“And that went bad.”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “Every so often, something ticks him off and he blows up. Like I said, he doesn’t think about things, he just reacts. So he probably just went to blow off some steam.”

“He was throwing things.”  The memory of the pillow slamming the wall makes you wince. “It was a little scary.”

“He’ll calm down eventually. You just kinda have to let him go nuts.”

“Is that why that mansion was so trashed?”

“Not everything, but yeah, a lot of that was him.”

You shiver. “He never hit people, did he?”

She pauses. “He came close a couple times. But then he’d go punch a wall or something. I never saw him actually go after somebody.”

You stare at her. “How is that not terrifying?”

She shrugs. “You get used to it. He always calms down.”

 “I don’t want to get used to it.” You haven’t been paying too much attention to your route; you look up and see that you’re in front of the main Alolan clothing store and the little boutiques surrounding it. It feels like a good time to change the subject. “Hey, could you help me pick out some make-up? I have no idea what the good brands are here.”

Shopping and talking about other things helps you get your mind off of Guzma somewhat, but he stays in the back of your mind, hanging over the afternoon. You’d thought you’d seen his dark side. And you’d thought he was doing better. But nothing over the last couple weeks had pissed him off this badly – except maybe you getting lost, but it was too hot to be raging in the desert and then Plumeria had made him leave your room when he started getting hot-headed again. You wonder what he’d done then to work it off.

When you head back to the house, you see Guzma sitting on the front porch, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to get back. “You know you’re not supposed to be out in the sun for long,” he says when you approach.

“Don’t be lecturing me now.” You pass him and unlock your front door.

“Hey, G!” Plumeria distracts him while you put up your new purchases and make a few mugs of Tapu Cocoa. She manages to keep the mood light for the rest of the afternoon. You try to get her to stay for dinner, but she wants to get home before it gets too dark, and she won’t accept a ride from your ride pager, so she heads out in the early evening.

As you start to put dinner together, Guzma comes up behind you and hugs you. You don’t relax into it as naturally as your normally would. He notices your unease and takes a deep breath. “Look, I – I’m sorry about earlier.” He’s saying it enough lately that he might actually get used to it sometime soon. That’s a positive, isn’t it?

“Is that what always happens when you get mad?” You know the answer but you want to hear him say it, see if he knows it.

There’s a long silence before he answers. “It’s usually worse.”

You try to act natural as you go back to chopping vegetables.  “What did you do a few days ago when Plumeria kicked you out of the room?”

Now he’s the one who goes stiff. “Punched a few trees.” He’s quiet again for a minute.  “I was mostly over it by then.”

You need to be honest with him. “You scared me.”

He buries his face in your hair and says quietly, “I’m sorry. I mean it.”

“I know.” You can’t help adding, “But what about next time?”

“I’ll work on it.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He sniffs. “I like your shampoo.”

“Well I’d hope so, considering you’re using it too.” You try to keep working but he clings to you like a burr. For a little while it’s cute, but when you actually need to move around it really doesn’t work. “Mind letting me finish dinner?” He gives you one last squeeze and walks out.

Your night is quiet, but a bit of tension still hangs over it. When you go to bed, Guzma spoons you, holding you close and resting his cheek on yours. You run your hands over his arms and try to sleep, but it’s elusive. From the way he’s shifting, he’s not having an easy time either. At some point you finally manage to drift off, trapped in vivid, strange dreams.

 

The next day is peaceful. You’re heading back to the Pokemon League tomorrow and wish you could start today, you’ve begun to get so restless. You’re not looking forward to taking three and possibly four challengers a day for the next few days, to catch up with the people who’ve been progressing through the Elite Four. Kukui’s been texting you updates on who’s been coming through - more adults are trying their hands now. It’ll be interesting to see whether they’re more difficult to battle.

The day seems to drag on. Guzma has gotten so into Ace Attorney you wonder if he’d remember to eat without you telling him to. You, however, just can’t figure out what to do with yourself. You take a morning walk with Arcanine again, but you don’t feel like going back the beachfront. None of your books manage to interest you for more than a few minutes. Finally you take the 3DS and shut it; Guzma starts to complain until you straddle his lap, cupping his face with your hands. “That’s a dangerous position to be in,” he says, grinning. You just push him back into the couch, kissing him.

His hands keep slipping up and down your legs from your ass to your knees, making them tingle on top of the burn you feel from sitting in a position you’re not used to. You run your fingers down his sides, making him groan. You catch his lower lip between your teeth and tug. You can feel him starting to get hard under you. Your thoughts dart from should you be doing this to are you ready to take it further to –

You pull away and look at him. “Are you okay with leftovers tonight?”

He bursts out laughing, put his hands on his face and runs them up to his hair. “You interrupted this for _that_?”

“Well, it just came to mind and –”

“What the hell do you think about during _sex_?”

You sit back and fold your arms, indignant. “Do you want to keep going or not?”

He perks up. “How much further do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I’m not sure because I really don’t feel like jerking off in the bathroom again.”

“Again?” You climb off of him. “When do you do that?”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “When I damn well feel like it. And it makes me feel like a fucking teenager hiding from my parents.”

You have to admit, it’s a slight turn-on to know he must occasionally do it when you’re there. Just can’t help himself. You wonder if he thinks of you when he does it. Trying to get your mind off of that, you ask, “So how’s the game?”

“Fuckin’ weird. The Steel Samurai stuff is just wacky.” He picks the game up again. “And why the hell do they care whether it’s a ladder or a stepladder?”

“That’s a thing.”

“It is?”

“Just you wait. Are you on the fourth case?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s _amazing_. And the fifth case, holy shit.”

“Okay, good job, boner effectively killed.” You hold your hand up for a high five. He starts laughing again.

 

You’re cleaning your plate from eating dinner when someone knocks at the door. You wonder who it could be this late as you head to open it. Guzma barely looks up from the couch as you pass.

You stand there in astonishment, frozen in place, when you get the door open. Guzma’s father is standing on your porch, not looking happy. “I heard my son was here.”

“H-he’s not,” you say, trying to fill the doorway so he can’t see past you, thankful that the couch isn’t in view from here. You can hear Guzma shifting on the couch.

“I know he is. My wife brought him something yesterday.” She told him?!

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t protect him. He’s not –” Guzma pushes you back, shoving himself in front of you. “There you are.”

“What the hell do you want?” Guzma snaps.

You try to think of something you can do. There is nowhere this can go that ends well, not with the tone in his father’s voice.

Guzma’s father hands him something. “This is how much it cost for my care both times you’ve attacked me. I expect to be paid back-”

Guzma rips the paper up and throws it in his dad’s face. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t you ever dare speak to me like that again,” his dad says, grabbing his wrist. You try to get between them then, trying to pull him off, but his grip is like a vice.

It’s pretty clear Guzma is so angry he can’t even think straight. “Fuck right off. Now.”

Guzma’s dad gives you a little push back, nothing serious, just trying to get you off of him. Guzma surges forward and grabs his shirt, lifting him off the ground a little. “Don’t you touch her! I will fucking kill you!”

“And now you’re assaulting me again! You’re lucky I’m not calling the police –”

“You’re lucky I’m not fucking choking you.”

You try to interject. “Sir, I think it’d be pretty easy for him to plead self-defense on this one.”

He glares at you. “You’re probably the only reason he’s not rotting in jail the way he should be, aren’t you?”

Guzma picks him up, walks to the edge of the porch, and tosses him off – not far, he’s too heavy to do much, but you can’t believe he was able to lift his dad in the first place. “Don’t you ever, EVER pull this shit again!” he shouts. You’re almost glad your house is so isolated, just so no one’s seeing this. Then again, maybe people should be seeing this. Guzma’s still going. “If I ever see you again, I will fucking murder you!” He jumps off the porch and gets in his dad’s face. “And if I ever hear you have touched a single hair on Mom’s head, or you do something to her,” he growls, pointing back at you, “you are fucking dead. They won’t even have enough left to bury when I’m done with you.” He lifts his foot and you wince, worried he’ll kick the man on the ground. Instead he turns and stomps off toward Route 1, swearing.

Guzma’s dad waits for him to get out of earshot, then gets to his feet, muttering a couple curses of his own, and glances at you. You stare him down until he looks away and walks off, trying to act like nothing happened. When he’s gone, you run after Guzma.

When you catch up to him, he whips around to you and shouts before you can even open your mouth. “No, I am NOT FUCKING OKAY right now!” He bends, picks up a rock, and throws it at a tree, yelling, “FUCK!” as he does it.

You put your hand on his back as he picks up another rock. “What do you need right now?” Thinking of yesterday, you know nothing you can say will do anything. You wish you had something, anything to do that would get him to break out of this rage.

“I need you to give me some fucking space!” He straightens up and hurls the rock off the cliff. “You’re always trying to fix me and get me to do shit and it doesn’t fucking work and you just – ulgh!” He kicks at a rock too big for him to throw.

“I just want to help,” you tell him, starting to tear up. “I don’t want to see you like this.”

“Well fucking DEAL with it.” He starts to walk off. “This is what I am.”

You come after him and grab his arm. “No, it’s not! You’re better than this!”

He wheels around, fist in the air, aimed at you. You stumble back, scared out of your wits. He has a crazed look in his eyes. Then he looks into yours, sees the fear there. Looks at his arm, cocked back like he’s about to throw a punch. When he looks back to you, he’s frightened – possibly more than you are. He lowers his arm and backs away. “I – I didn’t, I just, I wasn’t – I never –” He’s shaking. “I promise I – I can’t promise, I just – I almost –” He rips at his hair and his face with his nails. Then he turns and bolts away into the wild, leaving you shattered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thanks again for the positive feedback - I was really worried yesterday's chapter would go down poorly and it seems to have been received well.
> 
> I also need to unfortunately mention that my updates are probably going to decrease in frequency over the next few weeks. I have a lot of stuff going on irl that's going to take time away from writing. Hopefully it'll only mean every two days, but I'm not about to make checks with my mouth that my ass can't cash.

When you go to bed that night, sleep won’t come. You can’t stop replaying the last few days in your head, rewinding through everything, wishing things had gone differently, that this or that hadn’t happened, that the whole mess could just be undone somehow.

In a sick, twisted way, somewhere in the deepest recesses of your mind, you’re almost glad it happened. Not that the events that played out were in any way good, but that you’ve now seen Guzma at his worst. And his worst is pretty horrific. You flinch involuntarily every time you recall the image of his fist raising, about to launch.

You still like him – you don’t think it’s really to the point of love… at least you hope it’s not, because you know it’s at the point of breaking. Your heart throbs in pain at trying to figure out what to do with your conflicting emotions, your positive feelings towards him trying to mix with the fear and the pain. The two are fundamentally incompatible, and yet they still both tangle inside you. It’s so confusing.

At some point you do finally manage to fall asleep, but your alarm wakes you up way too early. You hit snooze on it a few times and finally turn it off completely, tossing and turning, trying to get back to some semblance of sleep. When the clock approaches 10AM, you finally force yourself out of bed – you have to go back to the League today. You think about texting Kukui and asking for another day off, but you don’t think you could take another minute thinking and rethinking and overthinking this. At least the battles will help get things off your mind.

When you get to Mt. Lanikila, everyone can tell something’s off. Acerola gives you a hug, then looks up at you. “What’s wrong?” You wish she wasn’t half as perceptive as she normally is.

“Nothing.”

Olivia looks you over. “You sure? You still look a little sick.”

“I’m fine.”

Kahili comes over and joins the conversation. “If you’re not at your best, it’s okay to say so. Your challengers deserve a proper battle against someone who’s fully prepared to fight.”

“I promise, I’m okay.”

After they finally leave you alone, heading off to their rooms, Hala walks up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. He simply says, “You’ve had a rough night.”

You wonder what Guzma did when he ran off. “Did he come to you?” Hala nods. You turn and rest your forehead on his shoulder, trying not to cry.

He gives you a few sympathetic pats on the back. “If you need to, you can take today off. I don’t think anyone would mind, except maybe a few of the more impatient challengers.”

“No. I just – I need – I need things to get back to normal.” You give him a hug. “Is… is he okay?”

“That is hard to say.” He thinks. “He does regret what happened. Whether it’s enough for him to change, we’ll have to see. At least he’s willing to ask for help - I started working with him this morning.”

“That’s good. Thanks.” You step away. “I guess we should get ready to start, huh?”

He nods. “May your battles go well.”

 

You throw yourself into the fights, trying to clear your mind of everything else. The first two are surprisingly fast, requiring only three of your Pokémon – turns out getting lost in the desert paid off to an extent after all. The last two require you to strategize more, which is better, because it takes more of your focus away from recent events.

Your last challenger is Ari, the girl you battled a few weeks ago. You were never quite sure why she stuck out in your mind, but today she gives you a reason to remember her – she’s holding back tears as she calls her fainted Altaria back into its ball. Most of the kids you battle get emotional after losing, but few actually break down and cry.

You walk over to her and bend down with her; she’s having a hard time getting up off the floor because she’s trying to keep her emotions from rising. She’s probably embarrassed. You remember when you were starting out in Johto, losing battles to Whitney and Morty, how frustrating it had been when the adults had bested you – and how badly Whitney had handled it whether you won or lost.. “What’s up?” you ask.

“I- I’m fine,” she says, hiccupping back a sob.

“It’s okay, let it out,” you tell her, patting her back.

“I t-trained so h-hard and you still beat m-me,” she mumbles, tears tumbling down her cheeks. “I even traded for rare Pokémon and you still beat me.”

You smile at her. “But look how much better you did this time! You got me down to my last Pokemon against yours.” You tap the Pokéball in her hands. “And this guy is pretty cool. How long have you had him?”

“Her. A couple weeks.”

“And you get along so well with her! That can be difficult when you trade Pokémon.” You wonder what else you can say. “Hey, I’ve been training with my Pokémon too, and you still did way better than last time. If you go back and train yourself again, I bet you’ll be able to beat me.”

“You mean it?”

You nod. “And more importantly, you’re great with your Pokemon, and you’re good at battling - there’s a lot more to a good battle than just winning.”

Ari straightens herself up, ready to get off the floor. You help her stand and take her hand. She’s still wiping away tears, but she takes the time to give you a proper handshake, the usual send off for challengers. She grins up at you. “Well, you better watch out next time you see me, okay?”

“I will.” You watch her go and sigh. She’s young, still malleable, easier to teach. Hopefully the other people in her life are encouraging her. Maybe she’ll learn that failure isn’t the end of the world and that her efforts are valuable even when she doesn’t come out on top.

Your thoughts slip back to Guzma. Shit.

 

You don’t want to go back home when you’re finished at the League. You decide to take the long way to Plumeria’s house – it only would take maybe ten minutes longer than a Charizard would, and the view on the way down the mountain is beautiful.

When you approach her door, you try to compose yourself, but pretending everything’s okay has already taken a toll on you. When Plumeria answers, she gives you one look and says, “Okay, what happened?”

You end up sitting on her bed, braiding her long, long hair into two pigtails while you explain what happened. You still feel a little chill of fear when you describe Guzma’s rage. When you’ve finished, Plumeria lets out a long sigh. “Sounds like G. Except that last part.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him scared. Ever. Especially not when he’s that mad.”

“Maybe it’s a new thing for him, after being in Ultra Space.” He hadn’t actually seemed too freaked out after the Nihilego tried to possess him, you realize as you think back to it. He probably just knew how to hide it. He seemed like the type to get upset when he was scared.

“Could be.” She looks over as you fasten off her pigtail. The pink and the yellow mixing in her hair give the braid a fascinating look. “Could be you.”

“Why do you think I’m so special?” you ask, annoyed.

“You did manage to catch that legendary Pokemon at the lake,” Plumeria says. “But, well, you’re not that special. Just special to him.”

“Thanks,” you tell her sarcastically. Then you look back on the past few weeks. “I mean, I’d say our relationship was going pretty well…”

“How was the sex?” You stare at her. “C’mon, good sex is a good sign, isn’t it? Unless you’re not into sex, I guess.”

“Haven’t had it.”

Now she’s the one staring. “Okay, yeah, you’re special.”

“What?” You’re getting kind of annoyed.

“I’m not saying that’s bad! I’m saying Guzma usually just rushes the fuck in and gets what he wants. That’s kind of his MO.”

“I know.”

“That’s what I mean. He’s usually not the type to wait on something like that when he wants it.”

You undo her pigtail and start braiding it again. “I think he was more concerned with keeping a roof over his head at the time. He’s said he’ll do whatever it takes to have somewhere to sleep at night.” You wonder if that’s why he went to Hala – if that’s why he’s working with Hala. You hope not… You frown as you think back. “Hell, he even offered sex as some kind of, I dunno, payment or something.”

She laughs. “Of course he did.”

“Is that normal for him?”

“Nah. He’ll just take it where he can get it. Usually.” She leans back, making you lean forward. “Then again, I have no idea what happened in between him leaving home and me meeting him and letting him stay here.  He never talked about it.” She starts examining her nails. “He didn’t talk a lot when we first met. He was pretty much always angry back then. Most of the time, if he was talking, he was yelling at someone.”

“When did you guys meet?” You’re curious now. So they hadn’t been childhood friends, like he was with Kukui…

“Eh, four, maybe five years ago? I was sixteen, I think he was, what, eighteen?” She catches you gaping at her. “What?”

“He’s only twenty-two?”

“What, the white hair make you think he’s a grandpa?”

“No.” You finish the braid, but you toy with the hairband instead of putting it in. “I figured if he was leading a gang, he had to be more like thirty or something. Most of the Team Rocket and Team Plasma and Team Whatever-the-hell guys were in their forties at least.”

She raises an eyebrow. She and Guzma are both so damn good at that. “Weren’t those guys a lot more organized than we were?”

You shrug. “I dunno. They never really said much about, like, organization structure when they reported on those guys.”

“Guzma got along with angry outcast teenagers because he was one.” She leans all the way back until she’s lying down, looking at the ceiling. “You mentioned that Ultra Space thing.”

“Yeah?”

“He never talked to me about that either. I think that’s what changed him.” She props her head up so she can see you and grins. “Not that I’m dissing your magic pussy or anything, but after that’s when he started acting different. That’s when he broke the team up.”

You roll your eyes. “I’d be worried if I were the reason he was changing. That’d probably just mean he was trying to get into my pants. Which he hasn’t been, so.” You lie back too. “Lusamine really fucked with his head, I think.”

“I knew that bitch was no good for him. I mean, look how fucked up Gladion is.”

“I thought you guys didn’t know he was her son.”

“True. He certainly wasn’t proud of it. And it’s not like we went around telling everyone we suddenly hired out to Aether.”

“But with Guzma… our last battle, the one we had right after I became Champion? That was definitely different. Even Hala noticed.” You sit up, hugging your knees. “I mean, Lusamine was a piece of shit, but if all that got him to change for the better, that’s good, right?”

“Still woulda rather had that not happen. Going through bullshit to get better sucks.”

“It totally fucking does.”

 

You are really beginning to hate the sound of someone knocking on your door.

When you answer it, Guzma’s standing there, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck. He looks at you for a moment, then glances away. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi.”

“You mind if I get my stuff?”

You let him in. “You’re staying with Hala?”

“For now, yeah.” He pauses. “Look, if you don’t want to see me anymore, that’s – that’s okay. I – I get it.” You’ve never seen him this uncertain of himself.

You don’t quite know how to respond. He grabs the bag of clothes you bought him from the corner he’s been storing it in and throws it on top of the box his mom gave him. He starts to pick that up, then straightens back upand looks at you. “I’m not going to tell you – okay, last night was possibly the shittiest one I have ever had. It was a new low for me, and that’s saying a lot. But even if you want me to just leave you alone…” He scratches the back of his neck again. “Can I just come back and apologize when I mean it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean – I mean when I know I’m never gonna do shit like I did last night again.” He looks down at the floor. “I don’t want to tell you some bullshit if I’m just gonna turn around and do the exact same fucking thing again.”

“Do you think you can get to that point?”

“I – I hope so.” He scuffs at the floor with his shoe. “I just – I don’t want to turn into my dad. I can’t do that to people.” He’s trying to keep his face angled down so you can’t see very well, but he’s started to cry. He almost seems… broken.

You step forward and give him a hug. He starts to move his arms and then stops, like he’s afraid to touch you. “I don’t want you to do that either. At least you know?”

“It’s… something, I guess.” He finally wraps his arms around you. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“It… may take me a while to trust you on that.”

“Like I said, if you don’t ever wanna –”

“I do.” You pull away and look up at him. “Let’s – let’s just start over.”

“Huh?”

“You know, like, go back to square one. Just start this over.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “We can’t just forget everything. Unless you know a way how, and if you do, sign me the fuck up.”

“No, I mean…” You try to figure out how to put it into words. “Just, start back like we’re just starting to date. Like we’re a normal couple, without you worrying about me kicking you out, and without me worrying you’re going to pop off any moment.”

“You want me to ask you out on a date?” He looks incredulous.

“Well, not now. But… maybe in a few days.” You shrug. “Y’know. Just take it slow for a while. Grab a drink somewhere, relax at the beach.”

“Catch bugs?”

“You fucking dork.”

“Hey, it’s something to do together!” He grins. “Plus, you need a Wimpod to fill out your Pokedex, right?”

“Those little fuckers always run away from me,” you admit.

“’Cause you’re not doing it right.”

“Then how’d you get one?”

He takes out his Pokéballs and rolls them around in his hand. “Because I’m the bug master. I know their ways.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Team Skull boss sounded way better than bug master.”

“Whatever. I’m still the best bug guy around.” He turns and picks up the box. “I better get going. Hala’s gonna think you murdered me.”

“Not funny.”

“Okay, yeah, that was… no.” He heads for the door and stops again. “Uh, thanks.”

“For what?”

He turns and smiles at you. “For giving me another chance.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the new tag if you need content warnings.

You hadn't exactly gotten used to Guzma sleeping with you, but the bed still feels empty when you wake up. Arcanine leaps up on the unoccupied space and starts licking you, happy to be sleeping in the bedroom again now that he's gone. You pet her idly, thinking about how it's not the same.

When you head to the beach, you half-hope and half-worry that Guzma will be there. Hala hadn't said what they were working on. You feel a bit selfish for wanting this time to yourself, but it's a time to relax and clear your mind – which would be a lot harder with Guzma around.

Thankfully, Hala comes alone. It's getting easier to relax into the movements as you start to remember the positions instead of just watching Hala. You get caught up in the sound of the waves, the rise and fall of your breath, the feel of sunshine on your skin. Even after finishing and waving Hala off, you move slowly, not quite wanting to break the small aura of tranquility you've managed to pull to yourself. You sit down near the edge of the waves and simply watch the tide coming in. You've picked a beautiful place to live, and even with everything that's happened, you feel happy about your move. So little of it's been bad compared to the good.

Your peace is broken as the minutes pass and more people start to come down to the beach, making noise and wandering into the waves. You get to your feet, your legs cramping from being in one position for too long, and head back home.

There’s another four challengers today at the League, and each battle is far too long. You’re finally finished by late afternoon, almost evening, and want to do nothing more than grab a quick bite to eat and crash.

The next two days are more of the same. You wonder if this is it, if this is when someone takes your title. You’d almost be glad to get rid of it – with it and all the distractions of the last few weeks, you haven’t been able to go Pokémon hunting and fill out your Dex the way you wanted to. And going home every night exhausted is no fun.

Things finally begin to slow down later in the week, but you still end up at home alone, tired and frustrated at the end of the day. When Kukui says there’ll be a day off soon, you can’t help but sigh in relief.

You don’t notice your Dex vibrate when you toss it on the bed before you change into your normal clothes. When you do pick it up again, falling into bed, it’s been a good hour and there are a few messages, all from Guzma.

_so i heard u have a day off coming up_

_come to brooklet hill with me?_

_don’t feel like u hafta_

_never mind_

You sit up straight and text him back, worried that he thinks you were ignoring him.

_I can come. Why Brooklet Hill?_

It’s barely a minute before he texts back.

_dewpider!!_

This dork is going to kill you with his bug thing.

_You don’t already have one?_

_shut up._

_It’s fine. I’ll get a Poliwag._

_u don’t have one??_

_I do, I want a Politoed_

_weirdo_

_You have exactly zero right to call anyone that, bug boy_

_whatever. u have fun with ur weird frog thing while i get a badass spider_

_Because spiders are so badass._

_have you fuckin seen my ariados_

_He’s pretty cute._

_he is not!!_

_Come on, Spinaraks are adorable._

_how dare u_

_Combees are cute too_

_u disgust me_

_Hell, you’re pretty cute sometimes_

It takes a couple minutes to get a response to that. While you wait, you remember that the guy you’re joking around with used to be a gang boss. Life is weird.

_so brooklet hill, 10?_

You’re kind of sad he changed the subject.

_Works for me_

_cool_

That’s about it for that. But now you can’t get him off your mind.

You miss the kissing the most right now. It’s been a while since you’ve been physically intimate with anyone in any way, and you can’t get your mind off the way he touched you, how close he held you. Your face gets hot when you remember sitting on his lap, feeling him getting hard under you.

You slip out of your shorts and kick them off the bed. You run your fingers down your neck, over your collarbone to your chest, imagining him kissing you there. Imagine his fingers trailing down your stomach to your hips. You suck in a breath as you push your hand into your underwear, running your own fingers over your slit. You’re already wet, just over this.

You pinch your nipple through your shirt and bra, thinking about him licking there, sucking, as you rock against your hand. Think about his big fingers pushing into your entrance, stretching you open, finding the right spot and hooking. Think about his tongue between your lips, licking up to your clit. Grabbing and clinging to his hair as he digs his fingers into your thighs, mouth pressed into you.

Rubbing your clit, you wonder what his cock would feel like pushing inside you. He’s a tall guy, and you can easily see him with a long, thick cock, filling you up almost uncomfortably full. His hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the bed as he pulls almost all the way out, then snaps his hips forward, burying himself in you. Whispering dirty things in your ear, getting louder as he approaches his climax. You imagine him clamping his mouth to yours as you gasp, starting your own orgasm both in your head and in real life, pushing yourself over the edge.

You breathe hard when you’ve finished, fingers still idly stroking your clit. You could probably go for another, thinking about him. You feel almost a little guilty thinking about him this way – then you realize he’s probably been thinking about you the same way, in the room one door over, as he runs his hand over his dick. Thinking about your hands touching his cock instead of his. Thinking about his fingers running through your hair as you open your mouth and take in the tip of his cock. Guiding you along his shaft, saying, “Aren’t you a bad girl?” as you swallow around him. Making you choke a little trying to take the whole thing in, encouraging you as you bob back and forth. Pulling you off and shifting so that you’re straddling him, riding him, hands on his chest, toying with the barbells through his nipples.

You come again with a cry, surprised at how fast it happened. Your inner walls clench, desperate for something to squeeze. You pull your hand away and flex it a few times – it’s tired and a little sore from the effort, but it was worth it. You turn over and float off to sleep as you remember his arms around your waist, his chest pressed to your back, softly breathing beside you.

 

You wait for 10AM anxiously when the day comes, wishing time would pass faster. You’d managed to stay calm while working with Hala, but after that, you couldn’t find anything to do, jumping from this to that as you tried to wait. Finally you see him walking towards your house. You get up and jog to meet him. “Something on fire?” he asks as you hug.

He seems a bit tense when you mount up on the Charizard – there’s nothing for him to really hold onto except for you, and he’s being careful, trying not to hold you too close or squeeze too tight. You’re grateful for his effort, and it’s difficult not to just relax into him during the ride, but you’re still not totally comfortable again. As you land, he tightens his hold just a bit before the Charizard steadies itself and allows you to hop off.

“So any particular reason you’re looking for a Dewpider?” you ask as you head into the area.

“Hala wants me to work with a new Pokémon.” He smirks. “And spiders are cool.”

“If you say so.” You follow him over the bridge crossing the pond at the entrance. “So you just need me to get a ride over the water?”

“Pretty much. Swimming sucks.”

You stare at him. “You grew up on an island, surrounded by water, with more water to swim in on it.”

“Salt water fucks with your hair and gets in your eyes and – it’s shitty.” You come to the first pond with no bridge and page a Lapras as he says, “I can swim if I have to, but I don’t fucking want to.”

“Then climb up.” You pet the Lapras as you climb into the odd elevated harness belted to its shell. This harness wasn’t designed for two - Guzma has to sit at your feet, legs resting against the shell’s spikes. He gets splashed plenty as the Lapras makes its way across the pond. You see how wet he is when he gets up and off, shaking himself like a wet dog. “You sure that was better than a swim?”

“I’m rethinking it,” he says, wringing out his baggy shirt. The water’s making his clothes cling to his body, and he’s wearing his typical white shirt – you certainly don’t mind the view as you walk behind him.

There are enough patches of tall grass around here, between the first and second pond, that you don’t have to make Guzma immediately suffer through another round of Lapras-riding. You watch as he carefully parts the grass, bent down low, walking slowly – he’s walking crouched down, that’s gotta be hell on his legs. Maybe there’s something to him doing all that squatting after all. After he mostly disappears from view, you head off in a different direction, looking for your Poliwag.

It actually doesn’t take you too long – you get out your low-level Pichu that you brought just for the occasion and give it a shock before you toss your ultra ball. It breaks out of the ball, flapping its tail up and down angrily and charging into Pichu with a body slam. You like its spunk, even though it just got itself paralyzed thanks to Pichu’s Static. It doesn’t protest the second ultra ball. You check your Dex to see its information – it’s a girl. It’ll be a cute Politoed.

You pick up the ball and glance around. You think you see Guzma’s hair and walk towards him. “How’s it going?”

He whirls around frantically and shushes you. You try to say something else but he glares, makes a cutting motion over his throat, and turns back to what he was doing. You try to glance around him and see if he’s actually found one, but it’s hard to tell through the grass. He’s stopped moving – he’s got one hand balled into a fist, and he flicks it every once in a while – what is he doing? Then you see a Pokébean poking out from between his fingers. Interesting.

Then you see it – there’s a bit of water floating in the air behind some grass in front of Guzma. That can’t be right. Then the full bubble pokes out, with a little head in it, being held together by three yellow-green spines. This must be it.

Guzma slowly raises his hand and lets the Pokébean slide down toward the edge of his fingers. The Dewpider takes a few cautious steps forward, eyeing the treat. It doesn’t see the ball Guzma’s pulling from behind his back until it hits the spider from the side. Guzma tenses up, holding his breath as the ball rocks around. When it finally clicks, he lets out a whoop and snatches up the ball.

“That was a little cruel,” you say as he gets to his feet.

“What?” He looks down at the bean in his hand. “Oh yeah.” He lets the spider out and holds the bean out to the bubble. The Dewpider looks up at him suspiciously before snatching the bean into its bubble and waddling away to eat its treat. “You thought I wasn’t gonna give it to him?”

“That’s what it looked like, yeah.” You watch Dewpider try to grab hold of the Pokébean with its two front legs. “Is that how you catch all your Pokémon?”

“Eh, it’s how I got used to it.” He squats down again to look at the foot-tall spider. “I used to help people catch Wimpods. You gotta be a lot more careful with them. But after a while I started to do it to all the bugs I found.” He pokes at the Dewpider’s body, trying not to touch its water bubble. “You know how with bugs, the little ones, they’re more scared of you than you are of them?”

“Supposedly.”

He glares up at you from the corner of his eye. “They are. It’s easier to lure ‘em out than to try to scare ‘em out.”

You both watch the Dewpider for a few minutes, waiting for it – him, according to Guzma’s Dex – to finish eating before Guzma puts him up. You get out your ride pager. “Ready to go?”

“Not here!”

“Why not?”

Guzma waves to the grass around him. “You’ll terrify them!”

You’re not used to this softer side of his. You’d never think he’d consider something like a wild Pokémon’s feelings. “You’d really rather get wet again?”

“I’ll live,” he grumbles.

“Alright,” you tell him as you walk back towards the pond and call over a Lapras.

 

When you fly back, you direct the Charizard to the Hau’oli City Pokemon Center closest to Iki Town. “Why there?” Guzma asks.

“Gotta get this little girl healed up and put away.”

He blinks. “You’re not going to train her?”

“Don’t have the time.” You grab his arm, helping him jump up onto the Charizard’s back.

When you touch down in Hau’Oli, some people give the two of you weird looks, but it’s more because Guzma is still partly soaked than anything else. When you walk in, people glance up, take in his wet clothes, and then go back to what they were doing. You go to the computer and get Mimikyu and Lanturn back out of your box.

As you head back towards Iki Town, Guzma starts to scratch his neck. You wonder what he’s thinking about. When you reach the split in the road, you both stop – it looks like neither of you quite wants to leave yet. He looks like he might be about to say something, but you can’t help yourself – you step forward and hug him, despite his wet clothes. He pauses before he hugs you back, one hand pressed to your head. You press a hand to his chest – and suddenly you’re remembering your fantasies about him. You flush and press your face into his chest, hoping he can’t see.

When you pull away from him, you tell him, “That was nice.”

“Even though you’re wet now?”

“I meant the date, you ding-dong.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He smiles. “It was alright.”

You take his hand. “So… can we do that again sometime?”

“Duh.” He squeezes your hand before dropping it. “Let me know when your next day off is.”

“You’ll probably find out before I do.” You watch him walk off toward Iki Town, wishing that you lived closer to people. To him, really. You miss him.

The walk home alone isn’t as peaceful as you were hoping with this longing in your heart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, note the tags if you need content warnings.

Things at the Pokémon League slowly begin to calm down, going back to one or two trainers a day, with more days off. You end up spending a lot of time with Guzma on your shorter days and empty days, mostly him working with his new little buddy and you trying to train your Poliwag on Akala Island. The stubborn little tadpole isn’t happy with you. Sometimes instead of attacking Pokémon, she’ll turn around and smack into your legs or hit you with a jet of water, making you stumble back a few feet from the force. No matter how much you groom her, she won’t brighten up – she even starts to refuse Pokébeans.

“Champ can’t handle a baby Pokémon?” Guzma asks one morning after you’ve just gotten another full-force blast of water. You catch him leering at your wet clothes and glare back. Then again, it’s not like you didn’t do the same thing the other day.

You put Poliwag away and find a sunny spot to sit in, hoping you’ll dry off soon. “I’ve never had this much trouble before,” you admit.

He squats down next to you. “I thought doing the trials and shit was supposed to give you control over Pokémon of any level, especially the young ones.”

“And it’s not like I haven’t trained plenty of Pokémon before now.” You toss Poliwag’s ball in the air and catch it, looking it over. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Does she act like this at home?” You’re surprised he cares about this. He doesn’t seem to have any trouble with his own Pokémon, except maybe when Golisopod is begging for treats.

“I haven’t taken her out at home.”

“Why not?”

You minimize the ball and slip it back into your pocket. “I take her out before I come out here to train her, and then I have to put her back up before I go home so I don’t forget to have my League team in the morning.”

“I think I see what the problem is.”

“I’m not spending enough time with her?”

“Yeah.” Guzma lets his Dewpider out and gives it a Pokébean. “They’re not just fighting machines. Ya gotta treat ‘em right.”

“I know. I just… don’t have time.”

“You don’t seem to like being the Champion very much.”

You start to protest, before you realize he’s right. “It’s not a bad thing, I just… miss normal life.” You lean back until you’re lying on the ground, hands behind your head. “I miss just being able to train Pokémon and battle when I want to. I miss my free time.”

“Why don’t you just quit?” He moves over and lies down next to you, your sides touching. You enjoy it until Dewpider crawls up on his chest. You scoot away from him as he chuckles and carefully pets the spider.

“I don’t think that’d go over well. I think Kukui would be pretty disappointed, and it wouldn’t look good for the League.”

“So what?”

“I don’t want to be responsible for the League getting cancelled or something.” Kukui was so happy when he founded the first Pokémon League here. You can’t imagine how devastated he’d be if it fell apart.

Guzma puts Dewpider up and rolls over to look at you. “You really think that would happen?”

“I dunno. I don’t feel like risking it.” You pause. “And I don’t know what people would think.”

“Fuck that. Don’t give a shit.”

“Easy for you to say.” You know he cares. You’ve seen how he gets when people give him hateful looks or avoid him on the street.

“Then throw a fight. Let someone else deal with it.”

“That’d be so unfair! It’s supposed to be a challenge, I can’t just let someone beat me.” You look up at him. “I thought you would want to beat everyone down, not purposely lose.”

“I’m trying to give you an out, dumbass. I’m not saying I’m gonna do it.” His fingers run through your hair. “Besides, I might if the fighting was just making me miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.” It’s not that bad. You get a stipend for doing it, you get to see how powerful your Pokémon are… but have you ever really cared about that? You’ve been able to keep enough money before by doing odd jobs and battling people. And you usually like evolving and breeding your Pokémon more than just being the strongest.

“But would you be happier?” His face is leaning over yours now. His lips are slightly parted. Without thinking about it, you pull him down, pressing your lips into his.

It’s not quite the way it was before – Guzma’s much more cautious than he was, not pushing his tongue into your mouth, not nipping at your lower lip. You press your tongue against his lips, and he finally opens his mouth, moaning into your mouth when you meet his tongue with yours. He rolls over on top of you, propped up on his knees and elbows, trying not to lean his weight on you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him a little closer. He seems almost afraid to touch you, other than the hand he’s got cupped around your face.

You pull back for a moment, breathing heavily. “Is this okay?”

He tries to laugh. “Hell yes. I just don’t want to –”

“You’re not pushing me into anything I don’t want to do,” you say quietly, moving one hand to run down his neck to his shoulder and arm. He’s not buff, but he’s definitely got some muscle.

Encouraged, he lowers himself down a bit, pressing gently on top of you. When he kisses you again it’s fierce, tongue immediately sliding into your mouth, lips hard against yours. You run your hands down his sides to his hips. Hesitantly, you rest your fingers on his ass. He groans into your mouth and grinds his hips down – he’s so much taller than you that he’s rubbing himself on your thigh. You can clearly feel his erection through his pants. You try to push your hips up against his abdomen.

After a few minutes, he pulls off of you, breathing hard, muttering “Shit, I – I’m gonna – fuck, fuck –”

“Do you want to?” you ask. He nods frantically, ability to speak lost. You pull his hips down against you, massaging his groin with your thigh. He ruts against you for a few more seconds, when suddenly his eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open, garbled, strangled noises coming from his throat. Then he screws his eyes shut, breath ragged, and presses his face into your neck as he comes. He slumps a little, weight becoming uncomfortable on top of you, when he finishes, gasping in your ear.

Suddenly he straightens up, pulling off almost like he’s afraid to touch you again, eyes wide again. “I – I promise I don’t normally finish that fast – I don’t know what – shit.”

“Been a while since you’ve been with someone?”

He glances away. “Yeah.”

You pull his head down again, your lips brushing his nose. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

His hand brushes down your stomach, making your skin tingle. “Do you want me to get you off?”

You think about the fact that you’re lying in the dirt in the middle of tall grass in a clump of trees, and how easy it would be for someone to spot or hear the two of you – thankfully it’s been relatively quiet today, but you never know when that could change. “Maybe later.” You push him up off of you and sit up, trying to brush some of the dirt out of the folds of your damp shirt. “I think I need to change clothes. And maybe take a shower, ugh.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping you with that, but, uh, I _really_ need to change my pants.” You glance down, not seeing anything – his shirts are so long and baggy they hide his hips pretty effectively. “Head back for the day?” You nod. He gets to his feet and pulls you up into a hug, resting his head on top of yours. “I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s fine!”

“You sure?”

“You know I could have just pushed you off and told you to stop, right?”

He gives you a squeeze and walks away, not worrying about the dust that’s ground into his pants from lying on the ground. You try to brush yourself off, wincing as you find dirt everywhere, before you follow him to an open stretch where you can use your ride pager.

 

You drop Guzma off in Iki Town and start to walk back home before you remember you need to take Poliwag back to the Pokémon Center. By the time you get back to your house, it’s late afternoon and the heat is making you tired and sweaty. You take off your clothes and try to shake them out before you toss them in the hamper, settling on a blue sundress you don’t usually wear for the rest of the day. When you answer the door for Guzma, he looks you up and down approvingly before he comes in.

As soon as the door’s closed, he’s all over you, tongue in your mouth, hands running down your back from your neck to your ass. He directs you backwards until your calves are against the back of the couch. One hand catches under the edge of your dress and pushes up your thigh to your hip as he pushes you back onto the couch.

He gives you one last kiss before pulling away to look at you, his eyes locked on yours. “You still want me to –”

“Yes,” you interrupt him, already starting to feel yourself soak your new pair of underwear.

“Any preferences on how?”

“I think I’ll like whatever you have in mind.” He’s grinning like he already knows exactly what he wants to do to you.

He pauses for a moment. “I – I’m not used to doing it… like this. I usually just do whatever and if you like it, good, but –” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to hurt you, or take this too fast for you, or –”

You take his face in your hands. “If you start doing something I don’t like, I’ll let you know.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.” You kiss him again, slow, sensual and sweet.

He kisses his way down your neck to your chest, mouthing at your breast through the fabric of your dress. His hand slips up your thigh until it meets your hip, thumb grazing over your underwear. “Someone’s excited,” he says, smirking as he feels how wet you are.

He’s kneeling on the floor now, pushing your dress up around your hips, before grabbing your ass and shifting you forward until you’re on the edge of the couch. You spread your legs as he presses his face into your stomach. His fingers find the band of your underwear and pull it down slowly over your legs. Once he gets it off of you, he holds it up, saying, “I might just hang onto these.”

“Try explaining them to Hala,” you say, grabbing at it.

“You are spectacular at destroying my boner,” he says, tossing the underwear away.

“I’ve already gotten you off once today. Can’t be that bad.”

“That was just luck. And I had your mouth shut for that.” He takes a long look at your exposed pussy, making you nervous – it’s always nerve-wracking to be naked in front of someone for the first time. Instead of diving in right away, he turns to where your thigh meets your knee and kisses the side of your leg. He makes his way down your leg, licking and kissing your skin, until he’s almost touching your lips. Just when you think he’s finally going to give some attention to your aching clit, he turns to your other leg and starts the whole process again.

You moan. “This is way too much compared to what I did,” you tell him, feeling embarrassed for just rubbing him through his pants.

“You’ll pay me back later,” he says as he approaches your groin again. He stops and glances up at you. “Mind if I leave a mark?”

“Like a hickey?”

“Yeah.”

You shiver. “Go ahead.” He instantly bites down and sucks on the inside of your thigh, making you flinch a little. He gives it one last kiss before he finally, finally comes to your pussy.

He presses his tongue to your slit, moving up until he’s lapping at your clit. You clench your fists and dig them into the couch as he parts your lips with his thumbs and licks around your entrance. He sticks his tongue in – you’ve appreciated how long it is before but never like this, as it rubs against your inner walls. He pulls back just long enough to wipe his chin. “God, you’re wet.”

“Can I grab your head?” you ask quietly, feeling out of breath just from what he’s already done to you.

“Please,” he says before he leans in, starting to suck on your clit. You slip your fingers through his hair, groaning as you feel him work the little nub. He drops from it to your slit every once in a while, teasing you by pushing his tongue just deep enough inside to make you writhe. As you feel the edge of your orgasm coming on, you push his head into you, trying not to buck against his face. He switches to your clit, licking it up and down over and over again as you tighten up, falling over the edge. He keeps going until you’ve finished moaning and start to come down, almost overwhelmed by the stimulation.

He pulls himself up, wiping his chin again, and kisses you on the mouth, letting you taste your fluids on his tongue. “Killed it,” he says, grinning.

“Holy fuck,” is all you can manage to reply, your brain too sparked out on pleasure to make up a comeback.

He goes to the bathroom to clean himself up while you try to remember where he threw your underwear. When he’s done, he sits back on the couch and wraps his arm around you, fingers digging into your side. You run a hand over his chest, leaning into him. He quietly asks, “Worth the wait?”

“Fuck,” you say again. “I have no idea how to top that for you.”

He sticks his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “Oh, don’t worry, I think you’ll do just fine.” You close your lips around it and suck, making his breath stop. “Yeah, you’re good,” he mumbles.

You cling together for a while, but eventually he has to leave. You come up behind him and hug him as he opens the door, pressing your face into his back. “I miss you,” you whisper.

“I still need to work on things,” he says quietly, patting your arm.

“I know.” With a sigh, you let him go.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter makes up for having to skip a day.

The next morning, Guzma joins you for tai chi.

He walks up with Hala, yawning and bleary-eyed, not looking any better than the time you dragged him out here. This time Hala makes him follow along with the motions, naming each technique as he moves through the forms. Guzma's awkward following along – Hala has to remind him to keep his back straight instead of sinking into his normal slouch. It emphasizes his height and probably hurts his back – he certainly doesn't look comfortable. He hesitates to fully extend his arms and legs and finish the moves until he realizes they're not supposed to be hard-hitting – almost like he's afraid of his own strength.

When you've made it through the normal hour you spend doing this, Hala reminds Guzma to meet him later at the center of Iki Town and leaves. Guzma flops down in the sand with an annoyed grunt. You walk up and sit next to him. “It wasn't that bad, was it?”

He glares up at you. “You tell me.”

“Was your first time trying it. Stuff doesn't always come naturally.”

“Would you just say I suck and get it over with?”

“A, you didn't suck. B, if you did, would that mean you'd stop trying?”

He switches tactics. “What the hell's the point, anyways? I thought martial arts were supposed to make you kick ass.”

“The theory, according to Hala at least, is that if you can do the moves slowly, you can also speed them up if the time comes for you to need it.” You brush his hair out of his eyes. “And it's not about kicking ass, at least not for me.”

“Then why do you bother?”

“Gotta have something physical to do now that I'm not just wandering around everywhere.” His hair is growing out; you run your fingers through it, pausing when you see his roots starting to poke through again. Going from black to white seems so difficult. “And it's relaxing.”

“Not for me.”

“Maybe actually try it a few times and give it a chance, doofus.” He's relaxing into your touch, holding back little noises of pleasure when your fingers brush his scalp. “It's good to be disciplined. Wake up the same time every morning, have stuff you know you have to do at certain times.”

“Can we at least do it later in the day?” he grumbles. “I don't sleep before midnight.”

“Well, if Hala's making you get up this early, you should probably get used to it.”

He sighs. “At least he doesn't yell at me for taking naps when he's doing his Kahuna shit.”

Hala's far busier than you are – on top of working at the Pokemon League, he still has his duties as Melemele's kahuna to perform. “I have no idea how he handles everything.”

“Gives me time off, at least.”Guzma scooches so his head is lying in your lap. You remember yesterday, even though the position isn't that similar, and hope your face isn't turning red. “You mind if I borrow your games? All Hau's got is little kid shit. Too busy training to play games.” He laughs. “What kid doesn't have time for that?”

You think of Lillie and Gladion. “Several, I suspect.”

“No fun.” He tilts his head back at what must be an uncomfortable angle and looks up at you. “Speaking of – was yesterday alright?”

“ Do you just enjoy asking questions you already know the answer to?” you ask back.

“I'm serious.” His expression's a little difficult to discern upside-down, but he looks unsure. “I just – if you're having second thoughts…”

“I'm not.” You touch your fingers to his mouth. “If you're half as good with the rest of you as you are with your mouth, I might just be the luckiest person in Alola.”

He grins, sticking his tongue out. “Wait and see.”

You look down at him for a moment. “Not gonna lie,” you start, a little nervous to bring this up, “you don't seem like the kind of guy who's into explicit consent and making sure I'm happy with what you're doing.”

He draws designs in the sand with his fingertips. “I wasn't. Well, not about the consent thing. You learn pretty fast that you need to make whoever you're fucking happy if you want to fuck 'em again. Or if you don't want them telling their friends to avoid you because you're a shitty lay.”

“Great reasoning,” you mutter, suddenly completely confident in your decision to date this guy.

“That's what it started as,” he says defensively. “I'm not that much of a dick.”

“Anymore.”

“You want to talk about this or not?” he asks, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. When you're quiet, he continues, “I mean, I figured out it was actually fun at some point. Getting someone else off… it's powerful. That you've got that control over them.”

“Still selfish, but better.”

“Has it occurred to you,” Guzma asks, flipping over and raising himself on his arms so he can look into your face, “that I could’ve just fucked right off yesterday without a word about making sure you were happy?”

“Yeah.” You grin at him. “I appreciate the thought. And the action.”

He grunts in pain, putting one hand on his back, and flips over again so he’s sitting up next to you. “So, yeah, I do care if you’re enjoying it.” He smirks. “Besides, I could eat pussy or suck dick all day.”

“You’ve sucked dick?” you ask, curious.

His expression clouds over. “Yeah, I’ve been with guys and other people before. Is that a problem?”

“No. Just interesting to learn.” A visual pops up in your head of him doing it, giving you a little involuntary shiver.

He raises an eyebrow. “Anyways, I was kind of a use-em-and-lose-em guy for a while, just took what I wanted and left. Plumes tried to talk to me about it but I just tried to ignore her. I didn’t really care once I was done with someone.”

“Pleasant.”

“That was… before Lusamine.” He’s starting to stare off into space.

You take his face in your hand and direct him back towards you. “You want to talk about this?”

“Might as well.” He looks down. “Being with her… I felt like I was on top of the world. I was doing something important. I was important. She loved me. Sure, she’d get royally pissed, like, in a rage, when we fucked up, but that’s just how people are, right?”

“No.” You cover his hands with yours. He’s clenching them tight into fists.

He looks up at you. “You’re not like that, and Hala’s not like that, at least.” He sighs, glancing down. “And then we went into Ultra Space, and she dropped me like a fucking rock once she found those jellyfish things. Just completely turned the second she didn’t need me anymore. Suddenly I was just a piece of shit to smear under her shoe.”

You get on your knees and lean forward into him, holding him close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His whole body is tight, his breath shallow – it’s paining him to talk about this.

“So that kind of taught me how I was using people,” he mumbles into your ear. “So I’m trying to stop that.” He loosens up enough to wrap his arms around you. “I want to make sure I’m actually making you happy.”

“You are.” You try to think of something, anything you can say to what he’s told you. “You’re important.” He snorts. “I mean it.”

“Right.” For several moments you sit there, holding him, wishing he’d believe you.

“Hey!” a familiar voice shouts behind you. You both turn to look at the same time – it’s Hau. “Hala said to come get you, or you’ll be late!” he says, running up to you.

Guzma glares. “You have any idea of when something’s private, kid?”

“You guys are in the middle of the beach.” Hau gestures around to the other people who’ve come to enjoy the sunshine and the waves while you were talking. “That’s not private.”

Growling, Guzma gets to his feet, shaking out his hoodie and shirt, trying to get the sand out. “One day you’re gonna get a beat-down.”

“I’ve already beaten you,” Hau points out. “But it’d be fun to battle again!”

“You really get on my nerves,” Guzma tells him. He turns back to you and offers you his hand. Taking it, you stand up – and get pulled into his arms. “See you later?” he asks.

You get an idea. “Come over when I’m done at the League. I have a treat for you.” His eyebrows raise as he waits for you to continue. “It’s a surprise.”

“If you get me worked up over nothing…”

“I’m not.” You follow him back to the split in the road as Hau wanders off into Hau’Oli City, probably getting himself malasadas.

 

When you get home, you realize you’re curious about what Guzma’s doing with Hala. If they’re working in the center of Iki Town, that probably means they’re on the platform where Hala holds his grand trials and the festival events – anyone can watch them. You get dressed for the League quickly and head back toward town.

When you get there, there’s only a couple other people around, mostly heading to work for the day, not paying attention to what’s going on at the platform. Guzma’s on the right side of the wooden ring, with his back to you – you back up and try to keep quiet so he doesn’t notice you, not wanting to interrupt what looks to be a battle between Hala’s Makuhita and Guzma’s Dewpider.

It’s over in a few minutes. After some shuffling around, the Makuhita delivers a knock-out punch, nearly flipping the poor spider over. Guzma calls him back to his ball before he can hit the ground and have his bubble burst. Then he puts the ball up and reaches up.

You start to take a step forward and say something as he threads his fingers into his hair. Hala sees you and motions for you to stop. Unsure, you watch Guzma as he starts his usual routine when he loses.

Then he stops. You blink as he pulls his hands away from his head and marches over to Hala – he’s pissed. Hopefully not at himself, but definitely at Hala. “What level is your Makuhita?” he asks, practically spitting out the words.

“Level 21.” Hala steps aside and bends down to give Makuhita a Pokébean. That’s odd – Guzma’s only trained his Dewpider to 15 or 16.

Guzma turns and shouts at him. “That’s unfair! You knew he’d beat the shi- the tar out of Dewpider!”

Hala tickles the Makuhita’s tummy, making it laugh. “I never said the battle was about fairness.”

“Then what the hell was it about?!”

“Stop swearing.” Hala puts the Makuhita back in its ball. “You need to learn how to lose gracefully, and that Pokémon battles aren’t entirely about winning.”

“When it’s rigged from the start –”

“That’s not the point.” Hala straightens up and looks Guzma right in the eyes. He has to look up to do it, but he feels like the bigger man. “Focus on what else went on besides winning and losing. You’ll find something valuable by the time I get back from the League, I think.” He waves at you before he turns and walks back to his house.

Guzma turns to see who he was waving to. He looks at you for just a second before whipping around and walking off himself.

 

It’s been an hour since you came home from Mt. Lanakila and you’re starting to wonder if Guzma’s going to come over when you hear a knock at the door. You let him in – he barely looks at you before dumping himself on the couch. You sit next to him. “Sorry about… earlier.”

He huffs. “I never said you couldn’t come watch the training sessions, I guess.” He’s still pissy, but not as bad as before. You wonder if he’s been smoldering all day or if he just got angry all over again when Hala got back.

You lean into him, putting your head on his shoulder. When he seems to have calmed down a bit, you ask, “So did you learn anything valuable?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to talk about it, either.”

“Can I just say one thing before we drop this?”

“As long as that’s the end of it.”

You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. “You didn’t hurt yourself or start screaming at yourself when you lost. I think that’s good.” He snorts. “I mean it!”

“Whatever.” He still seems mad for a moment, but then he looks down at you with a smirk plastered to his face. “So you said you had a treat for me?”

You stand and take his hand. As he follows you into the bedroom, he comments, “I like where this is going.” You get behind him and push him back towards the bed. He takes your cue and lies down on it, propping himself up on your pillows, crossing his legs and resting his hands behind his head. “I _really_ like where this is going.”

“What if it’s not going where you think?” you ask him as you settle yourself on top of him, pressing your forehead to his.

“Then it really will be a surprise,” he says before he tilts your chin with his fingers and kisses you.

For a while you’re content with just kissing him, letting your hands wander over his body. Then you push your hands down under his jacket sleeves. He takes the hint and takes it off, tossing it to the side. His shirt quickly follows it. You start kissing your way up his jaw to his ear, gently tugging at his earlobe with your teeth.  When you start to kiss down the side of his neck, he asks, “Gonna – gonna give me a hickey?”

“I haven’t done that before,” you say, kissing down to where his neck meets his shoulder. You toy with the barbell through his nipple with your fingers, making him choke out little noises of pleasure.

When he manages to gather his wits again, he says, “’S pretty easy.”

“You want one?”

“Fuck yes.”

You return to his neck. “Here?” He nods. “Is it okay where people can see?”

“Please,” he begs. “Just – just suck on a spot for a while. Hell, bite me.” He groans when you dig your teeth in – probably too gently, considering the way he went at it when he marked you, but you’re not sure how much would hurt too badly. You kiss and suck the spot until it turns deep red, hoping that’s enough.

You continue your way slowly down his chest, to the nipple you haven’t been playing with. You take it into your mouth – the metal of the barbell through it is a bit colder than he is, but it warms up quickly with your tongue rolling over it. He starts to groan as you play more with his nipples. For a moment, you pop off, smiling up at him and asking, “These sensitive?” He answers with a strangled noise as his hands dig into your shoulders. You go back to sucking on his nipple as he twitches under you.

Finally you start to move down again, peppering his stomach with kisses, following the trail of hair leading down to his underwear, nipping at his sweatpants’s waistband with your teeth. You start to try to pull them down with your mouth, but it’s a bit more difficult than you thought it would be, especially with his hips pushing into the mattress. You resort to using your hands, pulling his pants down around his thighs, his erection outlined by his boxers. You run a hand over his bulge, making him suck in a breath. For a moment, you stop. “This alright?”

“Shit,” is all he manages to say.

“You’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure – just – fuck, just keep going.”

Holding his hips, you run your tongue over his boxers, feeling the shape of his dick with your mouth. There’s already a wet spot at the tip.  You tease him for a little while longer, rubbing your hands up and down his legs, barely touching your lips to his bulge as he starts to squirm beneath you.

You take mercy on him and pull his boxers down, exposing his cock for the first time. It’s big enough to make you nervous. You take him in your hand and run your thumb up his shaft. He’s breathing in erratic, short bursts, audibly gasping whenever you do something new. You pause for a moment, looking him over. “I knew you didn’t have a piercing down here.”

“Not yet,” he pants out. “Thinking – thinking about frenum piercings.”

“What are those?”

“Run down the underside of it-” You lick a stripe up from his balls to his tip, where you think he’s talking about, making him yelp. “Yeah, right there – fuck.” You’re not sure if he’s continuing what he said before or if he’s just telling you he liked that move.

You pump him a couple times, wondering what that would feel like inside you. “Just one in the center?” That doesn’t sound pleasant.

“Barbells. Make a ladder. Across here –” He moves to press a finger to his dick and show you, but you grab his wrist and pull it back to his side. He laughs. “No touching?”

“Just relax,” you tell him, fingers moving down to his base so you can run your thumb over his balls.

“Fuckin’ done,” he mumbles, lying back again.

You lick your way up his shaft again, dragging wonderful noises from his throat. He manages another “Fuck!” when you run your tongue around the head of his cock, tasting his precum.

Taking him into your mouth slowly, you listen to him whimper. He pushes a hand into your hair. You pull off of him – his tip makes a little popping noise as you pull your lips away – and tell him, “Don’t push me down.” His head makes a small move that might be a nod. “I’m serious – the last thing you want is me puking on your dick.”

He winces. “Thanks for that image.”

“I picked the bed because it’d be easier to wash the sheets than the couch cushions if something happened.”

“You have the least fucking sexy thoughts of anyone I have ever known,” he mutters. You take his head into your mouth again – that shuts him up pretty quickly.

You slowly push yourself down his cock, getting used to the size of him. Pausing for a moment, you unbutton your shorts and slip your fingers inside your underwear, rubbing yourself – there’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy this too.

When you get down as far as you think you can take it, you pull back up, nearly letting him out of your mouth again. When you go back down, you try to push down farther and manage to get a little farther. You work slowly at it for a while until you’re pretty sure you’ll hit your gag reflex if you try anymore. You bob up and down, running your hand over the shaft where your mouth can’t reach, trying to time it so your hand and your mouth are moving in sync. You can hear him moaning above you, feel him curling his fingers tight into your hair, feel his legs tensing up around you.

“Fuck, fuck, stop stop stop stop, stop, fuck!” he says, sitting up so he can tap your shoulder.

You pull off of him, confused. “Am I doing something wrong?”

He runs his hands through your hair, dragging his fingertips along your scalp. “No, you’re fucking perfect,” he says once he gets his breath under control. “Just – just wanna – enjoy it longer.”

You sit still, watching him lay back, run his hand through his own hair, trying to calm down. After a couple minutes he says, “I – I think I’m good.” You take hold of his shaft and lick his head. He moans.

It doesn’t take long to work him into a mess again, hearing him pant out, “Fuck that’s good, you’re so good, shit.” He tightens his grip on your hair. “You look so fucking good with my cock in your mouth.” A little pang runs from your head to your clit as he keeps talking. “Just taking my cock and sticking it down your tight little throat – god,” he breathes. For a moment he can’t manage speech, just groaning as you swallow him as deep as you can go. “I – I’m gonna – gonna come –”

You pull up and push back down on him again, feeling him start to come in the back of your mouth. You only shift a little as he finishes, trying to keep his seed from spilling out. When he’s finally finished, you pull off of him, coughing a little as you try to swallow. When you look up, he’s staring at the ceiling, breathing hard. “Fucking shit,” he mumbles, “haven’t come that hard in a long time.”

You pull his pants back up over his softening dick and push yourself up the bed, lying down on your side next to him, focusing more on yourself now that he’s done. He looks over you and notices the hand down your shorts – he grabs your wrist and asks, “Let me help with that?” You nod and pull your hand away. He slides his own down your stomach, over your abdomen and down under your panties. “You always get so wet,” he says as he runs his fingers over your entrance.

“Can’t really help it,” you tell him, gasping as he pulls his fingers back up to rub your clit. He’s rougher than you are, faster – your breath hitches as he falls into a rhythm.

“I love it,” he whispers as he pulls your head in close. You kiss him, grabbing his shoulders as he keeps working – shit, he knows how to use his hands. You whimper helplessly into his mouth as you start to tighten up, feeling your orgasm coming on. He pulls away and looks into your eyes, saying, “Come on, come for me, I can feel it, come on.” You bury your face in his neck, digging your fingernails into his shoulders as you hit your climax, tightening your legs and squeezing around his hand. He keeps rubbing you until you’re finished, and even then he doesn’t stop, just slows down so he’s gently stroking you. After a minute, he asks, “You wanna come again?”

“Fuck,” you mumble, thrusting your hips against his hand.

He takes that as a sign to go ahead and speeds up his circles over your clit. Then he stops. “Can I try something?”

“What?” you breathe, willing him to keep moving.

“You know how to squirt?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him, “I don’t think I can.”

“Let me try,” he insists, rolling so he’s on top of you.

“Go right ahead.” It’ll be a good time either way. He lets you pull off your shorts and underwear before he pushes his index finger inside you. He feels around your walls for a minute, before he rests his fingertip on the spot on your front wall that feels kind of spongy. He curls his finger forward – you moan it sends a surge of pleasure through your legs. Soon he’s got two fingers inside, then three, stroking your g-spot over and over again, making your legs shake. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him as he keeps working, having difficulty remembering how to speak.

After a few minutes, the pleasure dulls a bit. You whisper, “I don’t think I can do it,” to him.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

“Go back to my clit?”

He pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling disappointingly empty, before he starts rubbing his thumb over the nub, making you squeal. You press your face into his neck, embarrassed that noise came out of you, but he just laughs and keeps going, starting to talk. “When you let me fuck you for real,” he says into your ear, “you’re gonna be ruined for anyone else. I’m gonna fuck your brains out. I’ll have you at the edge over and over again, and when you’re done, you’re not gonna remember how to say anything but my name.” He pushes a little harder and keeps going as your legs start to tighten up. “You’re gonna be fucked so good you can’t remember how to breathe after. You’re gonna beg for my cock, worship it.” What he’s saying is a little ridiculous but it only adds to the storm building inside you. “Gonna fill you up so full you can’t stand it, tight little pussy squeezing my dick, screaming for more, screaming my name over and over again –”

You whimper into his shoulder as you come again, shockwaves through your body, even better than before. He keeps rubbing until you stop pumping your hips against his hand. You hold him tight as you start to come down, breathing heavy against his neck. He puts his arms around you and presses his mouth against your forehead. You lie together until you fall asleep, both half-clothed and completely worn out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may not be as exciting or spicy as the ones before it, but I think it's necessary.

When you wake up, it’s starting to get dark outside. You hope Guzma doesn’t have a curfew. Speaking of him, you’re tangled in his arms, pressed tight against him as he lightly snores. You gently pry yourself away from him and head for the bathroom.

Slipping your underwear and shorts back on, you think about just crawling back into bed again when you realize you’re hungry. Guzma never turns down food – you think he’ll forgive you for leaving him alone if you have something ready to eat.

The oven’s just preheated and you’re working on getting the vegetables prepared when you hear a knock at the door. You tense – Guzma’s already here and the last few times it hasn’t been him, it hasn’t been pleasant. You head for the door, a little pit of dread opening in your stomach.

You blink when you get the door open – it’s Nanu. What on earth is he doing here? “Good evening, um, Kahuna.”

“Just Nanu is fine,” he says. You get the feeling he doesn’t like being called that from the way his mouth twitches – his stoic features shifting in any way says a lot. “Hala said I’d find Guzma over here?”

Why is everyone always looking for him? “He’s asleep right now.”

“May I come in?”

“Sure.” You hope he’s not planning on waiting until Guzma wakes up – you have no idea how long that’ll be. “You want something to drink?”

“Water, thanks.” You run to the kitchen. When you get back, he’s seated himself comfortably in one of your armchairs – he’s not planning on going anytime soon. After you hand him the glass, he asks, “How have things been going?”

“Good.” You sit down on the couch, trying to push the memories of what you were doing a few hours ago away, suddenly very glad you’d decided to take it to the bedroom. “Everything going alright for you?”

“Things have settled back into a routine, more or less.” He glances around. You wish you had art on the walls or flowers or something to distract him. Just looking at each other is getting awkward. “Still several kids over in Po Town.”

“They’re still waiting for him to come back?”

He gives a quick shrug with just his shoulders. “Or they have nowhere else to go. Still managing to keep the power on, somehow.” You decide not to mention the money Guzma talked about leaving behind.

“That’s… good.” You’re not sure that was the right way to answer. Nanu doesn’t seem bothered, at least.

Nanu looks you over as if he’s searching for something. “He treating you right?”

“Great.” You really hope the incident a couple weeks ago doesn’t somehow manage to come up. It’s done with, as far as you’re concerned, you realize. You haven’t felt any fear of Guzma in a while. You’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t mean to question your judgment. It’s just that sometimes, certain kinds of relationships can make things seem different than they really are.” Well, he knows (or made an educated guess) you’re having sex, that much is obvious.

“I think we’re pretty clear about where we are.”

He nods. “Good.” Then he unexpectedly smiles at you. “How are things as Champion going?”

“Busy.” It’s a little weird but not unwelcome to see him with a genuine smile on his face. “There are a lot more challengers than I thought there would be.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if people are coming from different regions to try out. Especially since that’s what you did.”

You give him a curious look. “You mean people are moving here to challenge the title?”

“Not moving, no, but at least visiting, doing the tourist thing, trying their hand at a new League.” He sips his water. “Some people equate ‘new’ and ‘easy.’”

You ponder that for a few minutes, feeling the air grow quiet and not a little bit awkward. Then you hear the oven ding. “I’m making dinner,” you say, getting to your feet. “Sorry, I need to check that.”

“Go right ahead.” He seems to be concentrating harder on his water than he is on you.

As you slip back towards the kitchen, the bedroom door opens. Guzma exits, still shirtless, yawning. “Hey,” he says as he reaches for you.

Before you can react, he’s swept you into a kiss. Then he notices that you’re not responding and pulls back, confused. “We have company,” you whisper.

“Oh. Who?”

“Nanu.” You jerk your head towards the living room. “Go put your shirt on.”

“I think he can wait for me to piss,” Guzma mutters, letting go of you and continuing on his way to the bathroom. You head to the kitchen, hoping this won’t go poorly, considering you aren’t really sure why Nanu’s even here.

When you finish in the kitchen, Guzma’s in the living room, shirt on – good, he listened – talking to Nanu. Their conversation sounds casual, not awkward like yours was. You wonder how well they know each other, considering Nanu lives so near to Po Town. You sit next to Guzma, barely touching him, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him.  You glance up at him – and see the hickey you gave him earlier, turning purple. Fuck. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it somewhere so visible. “So what’re you doin’ here?” Guzma asks.

“I told you I’d be checking in on you every once in a while.” Nanu gives a small grin. “It wouldn’t have been fair of me to _completely_ dump you on Hala’s doorstep without giving him any help.”

“Why do people keep thinkin’ they need to look after me?” Guzma says, annoyed.

“Because when we let you run loose, you do things like start a gang and team up with the president of the Aether Foundation.”

You add, “He tried to tackle an Ultra Beast.”

Guzma glares down at you. “Don’t help ‘im.”

“It’s not my fault you did that!” You poke him. “I mean, hell, I was watching when you ran into that wormhole and I couldn’t stop you.”

“Whose side’re you on?” he grumbles.

You glance over at Nanu. “Let me tell you, I was about ready to follow after him just so I could kick his ass back out and tell him how stupid he was.”

While Nanu chuckles, Guzma says, “I’m beginning to think you don’t actually like me.”

“I do. You just do stupid sh- things sometimes.”

“Like you don’t?”

“Oh, I do stupid things all the time. I started talking to you, didn’t I?”

Nanu says, “Stop beating the poor guy up. You’re making me feel bad.”

You rest your hand on his chest and nearly say, “Love ya, babe,” before you realize what saying that might mean and choke the words back down. While you think about that, Guzma says, “So you gonna move over here and keep your ass on my tail again?”

“Nope. My Meowths are pretty comfortable in the police station, and so am I.” Nanu scratches his jaw. “If you wouldn’t mind getting those kids off my hands, though, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m not going back.” Guzma’s voice is suddenly hard as steel.

“Not telling you to.” Nanu leans to the side, resting his head on one hand. “But you’d probably be the only one who could get them to scat.”

“I don’t think they’d listen. Especially when I tell them I’m not reforming the team.”

“You’re underestimating yourself.”

“They won’t listen to me unless I’m their boss again.” Guzma’s hold on your shoulder gets tighter. You reach up and squeeze his hand, trying to get him to pay attention to himself.

“Would you at least try?”

Guzma’s voice gets louder in his frustration. “And tell ‘em what? To get the fuck out and find a rock to crawl under? Make ‘em leave the only place they can call home?”

Nanu sighs. “That is the difficult part, isn’t it?”

You decide you need to try to stick your head into this. “Is there any way Po Town can be fixed up? So the kids could stay?” Nanu and Guzma share a look. “What?” There’s obviously something you don’t know factoring in here.

“You know Tapu Village was destroyed by Tapu Bulu after that megamart was built, right?” Nanu asks. You nod. “Not long after, Tapu Bulu started passing over Po Town. It started to rain constantly and the woods started to crowd in on the place, pushing over the walls. People got scared the Tapu would destroy it, too, and moved out.”

“Never got worse when we took over,” Guzma says. “Guess it didn’t care about us.”

“You can’t really tell what the Tapu are thinking. They may be revered, but they’re still just wild Pokémon with incredible power.”

You give Nanu a confused look. “Didn’t Tapu Bulu name you Kahuna?”

“That she did, and no one will ever know why.” Nanu sighs. “But to get back to your point, people are still spooked by the town. And Team Skull didn’t exactly help its reputation, especially with how you all smashed the place.”

“Even if people stopped being scared, it’d probably be pretty difficult to fix up,” Guzma admits.

Nanu gets to his feet. “Well, thought I’d at least ask.” He turns to leave. “You kids have a good night.”

You ask, “Want to stay for dinner?”

He pauses for a moment. “Thanks, but no.” In a moment he’s out the door, and you hear the sound of a Charizard landing in your front yard.

Guzma looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “You invited him to stay and eat?”

You shrug. “He seems lonely.”

“He’s a weirdo. Likes being by himself.” Guzma rolls his eyes. “Who knows what he does with all those Meowths?”

“You’re the weirdo,” you tell him. “Now let me up, I need to check on the food.”

 

Guzma lingers after dinner’s finished, pulling you into his lap and kissing you. For a while you get caught up in him, but when you pause for breath, you have to ask, “Is Hala expecting you back anytime soon?”

“Fuck that,” he says, setting his hands on your hips and pulling you closer. You remember the feeling of his fingers inside you, a surge of warmth shooting from his hands through your abdomen.

It takes more effort to stop him this time. “I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

“He’s not my dad.” When you put your hand in front of his face, stopping him, he takes your wrist and starts kissing you there instead.

“You probably need to go.” You reluctantly pull your arm away and push yourself up off of him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, sounding disappointed.

“No. I just don’t want…” What do you want? “I think you need to stick with Hala right now. I don’t want to be a distraction for you.”

“You’re not distracting me.” He tries to lean in again.

You put your hands on his shoulders and push him back. “Okay, right now? I am telling you no. Listen.”

Annoyed, he gets to his feet. “Maybe I should go.”

“I’m not saying no forever, I’m just saying –”

“I get it.” He spins on his heel and heads for the door.

You run after him and grab his arm. “No, you really don’t.” He pulls your hand off with barely any effort. “Are you going to do this every time I say no?” He glares down at you. “If you’re going to throw tantrums because I don’t want sex all the time, or because there’s more important shit to think about, this is not going to work.”

“I’m not throwing a goddamn tantrum. I’m not a little kid.” His voice is getting louder. He’s not shouting yet but he might start soon.

“Then why are you acting like one?”

He sticks his finger in your face, but he can’t think of anything to say to that. Fuming, he turns again and leaves. You stare at the door for a minute after he’s gone, not entirely sure what just happened.

When you go back to your room, you find his hoodie on the floor, where he threw it just a few hours ago. You take it and look it over. It’s not very dirty – he’s still taking care of it, even with that goofy red X he clearly just slapped over the old Team Skull logo. You throw the jacket over your chair and try to find a book you feel like reading.

You take a long, good look at it when you get undressed and put on your night clothes. You pick it up and sniff – you can smell him in the fabric. At first you think about putting it on, but that might be too hot to sleep in – you end up curling up with it in your arms on the bed, the hood under your head on the pillow.

 

Guzma barely looks at you when he comes with Hala the next morning.

He starts to leave when Hala does. “Can we talk?” you ask.

Hala turns for a moment, just in case you were talking to him, and when he sees the way Guzma is glaring at you, he looks at you with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Guzma says, starting to turn away again.

Hala stops him. “What are you feeling right now?”

“I’m fine!” Guzma snarls, trying to shove his way past the older man.

He forgets that Hala’s a big man himself, easily able to catch and restrain him. “Running away from your anger isn’t going to resolve it.”

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to do with it?” Guzma shouts. “I’m not supposed to run, I’m not supposed to break shit, what the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

“Start with admitting it. You need to be aware of your emotions.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m fucking pissed!” This is completely out of proportion with your conversation last night. What has him so mad?

“Good.” Hala lets go of Guzma. He stays where he is, shaking. “Now, _why_ are you angry?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He glances over his shoulder at you.

“If we don’t figure out why, we won’t know what problem we’re trying to solve.”

“I’m not some stupid problem for you to figure out and get rid of!”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Hala places his hands on Guzma’s shoulders. “Now take a few deep breaths-”

“Why does everyone keep telling me to do that?!”

“Because you’re just making yourself angrier the more you go on like this. You need to calm down.”

You walk up to him and take his hand. “Please try?”

He rips his hand from your grasp. “Just leave me alone!”

“She’s trying to help,” Hala says.

“Well, she’s not!”

“Do you need me to leave?” you ask him.

“I don’t give a shit what you do.” You pull back from him, hurt. Does he mean it? Why is he acting like this?

Now Hala gives him an angry look. “Get yourself under control. Lashing out like this is just going to make things worse.”

You start to reach out to him, but stop before you touch him – who knows what he’ll do if you keep grabbing him? “Could you please just give it a shot?”

He glares at you again. Then his eyes go wide, just before he screws them shut. “Fine.”

“Take a deep breath. One, two, three…” Hala has him drawing in and expelling breaths to a count of six. Slowly, he starts to relax, no longer shaking. “Now let’s try this again. What’s making you so angry?”

For a moment Guzma won’t speak, still breathing hard. Then he pulls away from Hala and turns to you. “Do you –” His breath hitches. He squeezes his eyes shut tight. You think he’s trying not to cry.  He almost doesn’t seem angry – upset, certainly, but more uncertain then angry. He asks quietly, “Do you – do you still want me?”

“What?” You hug him. “Of course. One fight isn’t going to make me leave.”

“But – last night – you were going on about how stupid I am and then all that after dinner –”

“That’s not what I was saying.” You look up into his eyes, wondering how he could have so completely misunderstood. “I was trying to joke about some stupid stuff you’ve done. I wasn’t saying you’re an idiot.”

“But all I do is stupid shit.”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me one thing I’ve done that wasn’t completely idiotic.” You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him openly hating himself this much.

“You left your parents.”

“And started a fucking gang.”

“I meant this time.” You think about it a bit more. “And, hell, last time too. You knew they were hurting you, so you left. And you met Plumes – that’s a good thing, right?” He nods slowly. “And this time you got help. You just need to learn to listen to it.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t get it when you guys do try to help. Why can’t you just – just tell me what to do?”

“Would you listen? Have you listened when we’ve tried?” As he thinks that over, you add, “If you figure things out yourself, it’ll stick with you.”

“I hope so.” He lets out a long breath. “I feel like I’m not figuring anything out, though.”

“You are.” You press your head against his chest. “You’ll get it.”

“I dunno. I’m pretty dense.”

“Would you stop that?”

“What?”

“Calling yourself stupid.”

“But –”

You pull back and look at him again. “No buts. You’re not stupid.” He has his lips pressed tightly together, like he wants to fight you on this but he’s holding it in. “Look, here’s a deal. I don’t call you or stuff you do stupid, you don’t call you stupid. Okay?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you get out of that?”

“I get a boyfriend who doesn’t put himself down all the time when I know he’s better than that.”

Now both eyebrows rise. “Boyfriend?”

“What else should I call you?”

He thinks about it.  “Boyfriend works.”

“So we’re good?”

He blinks and looks up. “Where’d Hala go?”

You glance around too – Hala’s left; you can see the prints from his sandals leading away. “I guess he figured we’d get it worked out.”

“Probably being too mushy for him,” Guzma says, rolling his eyes.

“I like mushy.” He sticks his tongue out, making a gagging sound. “I mean I like when you actually talk about your emotions. This is good.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Would you listen to me for once when I say things like that?” You poke him hard in the chest. “I mean them.”

“Right.”

“At least try to tell yourself good things about you?” You put your hand over his mouth as he starts to answer. “And don’t you dare say there’s nothing good about you.” He waits for you to move your hand. You don’t. “You’re not going to say anything bad?” He nods. You let go.

“I just can’t see the good things,” he admits quietly.

“Well, try. Please?”

“Fine.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Can you take me to see Plumes?”

“Hm?” A day later, Guzma’s laid his head in your lap while he plays your games on his own 3DS – one of the things his mother had given him. Now, though, he’s looking away from the game, up at you.

“I need a haircut.”

You give him a confused look. “We can go to the salon in town –”

“No.” He’s turning pink.

“If it’s about the money-”

“It’s not,” he insists in a way that makes you suspect it at least partially is. “I like the way Plumes does my hair. And I won’t stink up your bathroom with bleach again.”

You think about it. “How about she comes here so you’re not cramped into that tiny bathroom of hers?” You also don’t think it’d be a great idea to bleach in her bathroom, considering she doesn’t have the best plumbing in a mobile home, and that it would make her entire place smell.

He shrugs. “If she’s okay with that.”

“Text her?”

“I can give you her number, y’know,” he says as he pulls his Dex out of his pocket.

“I’d rather wait for her to give it to me.” You’ve left yours with her before, but she’s never tried to message you. You’ve had a few good conversations, but you’re not exactly close yet.

“Whatever.” After a few minutes of going back and forth, he says, “She’s good.”

“When?”

He looks back to his game. “Right now.”

“Seriously?!”

“What’s the problem?”

“I would’ve liked a little warning,” you grumble. The house isn’t ready for company, as far as you’re concerned.

“It’s not that big a deal, is it?”

You glance outside. It’s late afternoon. “Guess I’m making dinner for three.”

He hears your tone and glances back up at you. “We can put it off.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

He puts the game up. “If I’m not allowed to pretend I’m not pissed, you aren’t either.”

“I’m annoyed. But it’s fine.” You stand up without warning, nearly tipping him off the couch. “Need to get out of the house today anyways.” It’ll be nice to see Plumeria. Lillie’s your only other real friend who’s female, and you can’t talk with her about the same things you can with an adult.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Stop asking.”

“Can I just ask one thing before you go?”

You groan. “What?”

“What the fuck is with this circus case?”

The question comes so out of left field you almost can’t help but laugh. “It’s the worst one. Just get through it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because then you’d’ve been dreading it before you even got to it.”

Guzma tosses another left-fielder. “How’d I look with purple hair?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Well, Max’s hair –”

“If you start taking cues on your personal appearance from a character in Phoenix Wright, I will refuse to speak to you again.”

“What’s wrong with being flamboyant?”

“Nothing. The problem is you taking hair tips from a video game that’s purposely fucking ridiculous.” You leave before he can throw out something worse.

 

Guzma’s hair looks surprisingly good once they’re done – the roots are much more even and his hair is under some semblance of control now that it’s shorter. Not exactly short – he doesn’t like the white section to be less than inch long, and you’d told her you liked being able to run your fingers through it – but better, at least. When you run your fingers up his neck, the newly buzzed undercut feels bristly under your fingers. He pushes your hand away. “Would you stop doing that?”

“It feels nice.”

“I thought you liked that, G,” Plumeria says from behind him as she packs up the last few tools she brought. She's made a little kit for herself – apparently she was the barber and stylist for everyone in Team Skull.

“Not when my girlfriend is doing it in front other people.” He's turning pink. It's kind of adorable.

“So you two are officially a thing now?”

“As far as I know,” you say. You push a wisps of hair behind his ear. “You should be a professional, Plumes.”

She gives a dry cough of a laugh. “What salon would hire me?”

“There’s gotta be one.” You think. “Or you could open one yourself.”

“With what money?” Plumes asks, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, I’m workin’ on somethin’ else.” You remember her talk with you after the desert incident and nod.

“What?” Guzma asks, confused. She hasn’t told him?

“None of your business,” she tells him, snapping her case closed.

“Since when?”

“Since I feel like it.”

“You still mad about the Team Skull thing?” he asks, scratching his neck.

“Well, yeah, but I’m still talking to you.” Plumeria leaves the bathroom. “This is just somethin’ I wanna keep on the down low until I see how it works out.” She gives you a quick nod. Then she stops and sniffs. “What’s cookin’?”

“Dinner. Figured you were staying for it,” you tell her.

Like Guzma, Plumeria is not one to turn down an offer of free food, but she eats fast, ready to go home. The trip there is pleasant in the early night air, cool with the wind flowing around you, bright stars high above. When you land at the entrance to the mobile home park, she asks, “Are you alright with me seein’ G?”

You blink. “You mean as friends, right? I thought you said you weren’t into -”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, as friends.”

“You just said that weird.”

“Well, I’m not used to girls being okay with letting their guys see other women, even when it’s just friendship.” She crosses her arms. “And you seemed pretty pissed off earlier.”

“That was because of him, not you.” You explain to her how he’d presented the idea of her coming over.

She sighs. “Yeah, G can be like that sometimes.”

“We’ll talk about it.”

“Good luck with that.” She pauses. “So you’re not mad at me.”

“No. Should I be?”

She grins. “Means you won’t get as pissed when I slam you and take your title.”

“I’d love to see you try!”

“Oh, cocky now, are we? You sure he’s not rubbin’ off on you?”

You smirk back at her. “It’s been a couple months and I haven’t been beaten so far.”

“Just haven’t had the right person come at it.” She takes one of her Pokéballs off the clips on her belt and spins it on her finger. “I’ll take you out, no problem.”

In your head, you kind of hope she will and that she’ll enjoy it more, but you need to try to keep face – you fold your arms over your chest and say, “We’ll see about that.”

 

Guzma’s still at your house when you get back – he got to clean the bathroom since they were the ones using it and you had to be his taxi service. He’s already got it in pretty good shape by the time you look in and check on him; he’s mainly chasing stray hair out from under the sink and along the baseboards with a broom. “Safe trip?” he asks when he notices you pop your head in.

“When’s it not?” You grab a dry towel and wipe down the edges of the sink.

“I was trying to do this thing called making conversation.” He gives up on getting every single hair and dumps the dustpan out into the little garbage can you keep next to the sink. Then he turns and asks, “Are you still mad at me?”

“A little annoyed, yeah.” You lean back against the sink now that it’s dry. “I just like knowing things ahead of time, alright? What if I’d had plans for tonight?”

Guzma sets the broom aside and settles himself in front of you, hands reaching for your hips. “What kind of plans?”

You take his hands and push them back toward his chest. “Plans we can’t get to because you need to go back to Hala’s.”

He looks genuinely disappointed. “I really hate that.”

“I know. But I think it’s for the best right now.” You cross your arms over your chest, feeling uncomfortable. “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, I just…” You pause for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “I’ve never really jumped into bed with someone this soon.”

“I mean, we still haven’t even had actual sex yet,” he points out.

“I’d say oral and the fingerings you’ve given me are actual sex.”

“I mean we haven’t – you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” You study your nails. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t really do that kind of stuff casually and, well, this isn’t exactly casual, I mean, we’re calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend now so it’s, like, a thing, but I don’t even know what we’re doing and –”

Guzma puts his hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin. “I think you’re over-thinking this.”

You nod. “Probably. I guess… But I was – I was going to say ‘I love you’ the other day as a joke, but then I thought about it a little more, and I don’t think I’m quite there yet? And I don’t want to say it until I actually am, I don’t want to make you think this is any deeper than it is, but then I get all mixed up and I don’t quite know what to call what I’m actually feeling so it just feels like this big mess.”

His face is turning pink again. Even his ears are getting a little red. “Okay, yeah, you’re way overthinking this.”

“I mean, have you thought about it at all?”

His fingers stop moving. “Duh, I have. Just not as much as you are.”

“So then what do you think?”

“I think I am very attracted to you, I’m a big fan of the sex, I would like to continue that, and I’m happy where we are right now.”

“That’s…” You look up at him. “It’s that easy for you?”

“If you haven’t really noticed, I’m not awesome at the emotions thing.” He starts to rub your shoulders again, grinning at you. “I am fantastic at the sex thing, but I don’t really get the other relationship shit.”

You lift your hand and tug your thumbnail with your teeth. “I’ve only been in a couple of long-term relationships, so I’m not exactly an expert either.”

“I have been in none. So you know more than I do.”

“So…” You pull your thumb away from your mouth before you start to chew your nail to bits. “I guess I’ve been trying to get to a point where I’m okay with where we are.”

“Are you?”

“I… I think so.”

Guzma scratches his neck. “I think I need to get going.”

You lean in toward him. He meets you for a goodbye kiss – one that probably lasts a bit too long – before he leaves.

 

The next day is a day off for you, one you spend relaxing together. Now that you’re alone, Guzma doesn’t mind you playing with his hair as much. After about the twentieth time your run your fingers over the fuzz of his undercut, he puts his game up and says, “You better be ready to fuck if you’re gonna keep doin’ that.”

You grin and twist so that your legs are slung over his lap. “Then I guess I’ll have to do it more.”

You yelp as he suddenly slips his arms under you and carries you into the bedroom. He gently sets you down on the bed and bends over you, pressing his lips into yours as you laugh. “I told you you better be ready,” he says, pulling away and pulling his shirt off. He throws it in the corner, looks back to you, and stops for a moment, looking at something. You follow his eyes to his hoodie, tangled in the sheets where you left it when you woke up this morning. “That’s where that’s been?”

“You seriously didn’t know?”

“Put it on.”

“What?”

“It shouldn’t be a big deal if you’ve been wearing it to sleep –”

“I haven’t been.” He gives you a questioning look. “I, um, just kinda hug it while I’m going to sleep.”

“Put it on,” he says again.

“Why?”

“I wanna see you in it.”

You pull it out and slip it on, feeling strangely self-conscious, especially for putting clothes on instead of taking them off. It feels like it swallows you – the sleeves come down past your elbows and the bottom of it hangs past your hips. “You’re fucking giant, oh my god. Why did you get one so baggy?”

“It’s what I found.”

“You tailor it yourself?” You flip the hood over your head just to see what’ll happen – it covers your eyes and nose. You can’t help giggling about it.

“Plumes helped.” He pulls the hood back down, leans forward and kisses you again, biting your lower lip. Then he pulls away and bends lower, saying into your ear, “I like it on you.”

“But you just want to take it off.”

“So?” He pushes his fingers under your shirt. “I’m remembering I haven’t actually gotten to see you naked yet.”

You turn your head to the side, feeling your cheek line up with his. “I haven’t seen you naked either.”

“You’ve seen all the important stuff.”

“Maybe I’m a leg girl. Maybe you’ll take your pants off and I’ll just scream and make you put them back on.”

Now he’s laughing. It feels nice against your skin. “You are a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“And yet you still fuck me.”

“Being weird doesn’t make you bad at sex.” He moves his hands up so they’re on the inside of the hoodie’s sleeves, pushing it off you. “Now let me see you.”

He says he wants you to take your clothes off, but he wants to do most of the work, slowly pulling you out of the jacket you’re drowning in, slipping his fingers over your stomach and your sides as he pushes your tanktop up your body. When you manage to pull the shirt all the way off, his hands immediately go to your back, feeling for your bra clasp. You take his arms and pull them away. “What’s the rush all of a sudden?”

“Oh, you wanna keep goin’ slow?” He starts to climb on the bed. You push yourself back so he has more room. He positions himself so his head is level with the waistband of your shorts. He licks a line from the band to your navel before he starts kissing his way up your stomach to your bra. You run your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles his face into your cleavage. Looking up, he asks, “Can I take it off now?”

“Okay.” You sit up so his hands have room to move as he runs them over your skin to your back. He pops the hooks out and pulls the bra down your arms in one slick movement. “You’ve had some practice,” you note as you fully take it off and throw it aside.

“Pretty easy once you know the trick,” he says as he looks you over appreciatively. Now you really feel self-conscious with him getting an eyeful. You sit up and pull his head toward you, kissing him deep. His hands are suddenly all over your chest, learning the way you feel, giving little pinches and squeezes to your breasts that have you whimpering into his mouth. He eventually moves from your mouth to your nipple, licking and sucking it, enjoying the delicious noises coming from your mouth.

Your hands are in his hair again. When he runs his teeth over your nipple, you squeeze and accidentally pull. “Whoa,” he says, immediately jerking up, eyes wide.

“Sorry, sorry!” You let go and move your hands down his neck to his shoulders. “Sorry.”

He takes a deep breath and says, “It’s okay.” After a couple more breaths, he adds, “Just – don’t do that.”

“I won’t.”

You keep rubbing his shoulders as he goes back to teasing your nipples. Soon he’s making his way back down to your shorts, rubbing his face over your crotch. You get them and your underwear pulled off as fast as you can, then sit up. “Now you.”

He rolls onto his back to pull off his pants and boxers. Once he’s gotten them down far enough to kick them away, you turn and push yourself on top of him. “Me first?” he asks, smirking.

“Yeah. I wanna try to deepthroat you.”

For a moment, he’s surprised, eyes wide again – then he glares and says, “If you say a word about throwing up, I’m leaving.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You move down so your head’s at his waist.

“What, I don’t get any foreplay?”

You scoot back up so you’re resting your chin on his chest. “I thought that was your foreplay.”

He blows a raspberry at you. “I wanna be fucked good and proper, thanks.” You give him the finger. “C’mon, romance me a bit before you try to blow my mind.”

“ _Fine_.” You return to his neck, turning his head so you can kiss the edge of his hairline, before you slowly make your way back down his body, running your hands over his body, figuring out what makes him tense up and what makes him groan.

Eventually you find yourself at his hips. He sits up a little, looking down at you. “So, uh, how’re you planning on doing this?”

“I did some research on stopping my gag reflex.” You take him in your hand, giving him a few pumps to warm up, even though he’s already hard as a rock.

He slips one hand up and over his face. “Researchin’ sex. Somehow that is even less sexy than the pukin’.”

“You want me to go down on you or not?”

“Go right ahe- ohh.” You manage to get him to shut up for a minute by taking his tip into your mouth. You pay loving attention to his head before you push yourself farther down, about as far as you think you can go before you’ll start to gag – about halfway. You take deep breaths through your nose, willing yourself to relax, and manage to sink down a little farther. He runs his fingertips through your hair, grunting as you pull pack up and go down again, managing to push further.

When you think you’ve reached your limit, you fold your thumb under your other fingers and squeeze hard, giving it a few seconds before you try again. That proves to be about as far as you can go – the choking feeling is fading, but he’s pressed against the back of your throat, which is uncomfortable in an entirely new way. He’s having trouble managing words, spitting out the occasional “fuck!” as you start to bob your head up and down again.

Finally it hurts too much and you pull back to where you’re comfortable – you’ve covered him and your chin in drool. You pull all the way off for a moment to try to wipe some of it off yourself before returning to licking his head and going back and forth on the portion of him you’re good with.

It doesn’t take long for him to come after that, leaving him breathing hard as you try to swallow. “That was fuckin’ hot,” he says when he regains his ability to speak.

“I couldn’t even get all the way down.” Your voice is a little raspy.

“I don’t even give a shit, holy shit.” He pulls you up for a long kiss.

The back of your throat still feels sore. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that too often,” you tell him as you flop down next to him. “Treasure it.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Now he rolls over on top of you. “What do you want?”

“Suck me off?” you ask.

“That’s all?”

“That’s good!”

“C’mon, I gotta do somethin’ special for you after that.”

You shrug. “I’m good with being sucked off.”

He studies you for a moment. “You ever done edging?”

You’re not sure you’ve heard of it. “No?”

“It’s like – you know the first time you blew me, when I had you stop when I was close?” You nod. “It’s like that.”

“What’s special about that?”

“Your brain will explode.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

He glares at you. “You know what I mean.”

“Is it really that great?”

“Will you at least try it?”

“Sure.” You relax back into the pillows. “I trust you.”

He gives you one of his rare genuine smiles. “I promise it’ll be worth it.” He leans down and tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. You lie back and let him do the work as he makes his way down your body. He pauses before his mouth reaches your slit. “You’re gonna have to tell me when you’re getting close.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Fingers okay?”

“Fine with me.”

He pushes one finger in, then two, before his lips seal around your clit. You rock your hips gently up against his face as he pleasures you, enjoying the warmth curling in your stomach and abdomen.

It actually doesn’t take too long to get you near orgasm; that blowjob turned you on more than you thought. “Stop, stop,” you tell him, trying to grind your hips back into the bed, even though it feels wrong to pull away from the stimulation.

He pulls his head away and his fingers out, but you can still feel his breath on your most sensitive areas and it’s enough to make you groan in frustration. “You’re sure this is worth it?”

“I promise.” He grins up at you. “I want to do it a few more times.”

“Just kill me now.”

He ignores that comment. “Just let me know when you’ve come down a bit.”

It seems like a lifetime of him teasing you, then pulling away. Finally you ask, “Can I come now?”

He brightens up considerably. “Magic word?”

“Oh my god, you’re a fucker.”

“You didn’t say it.”

“Please let me come, oh great lord and master of sex,” you say sarcastically as you push your hair back behind your ear.

He’s grinning now. “I could get used to that.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll stick with ‘master.’” He sticks his tongue in your pussy before you can think up a retort, making you moan.

It’s not long before you’re on the edge again, his mouth on your clit and his fingers gently fucking you. You almost tell him you’re close when it happens, slamming into you like a tidal wave. You arch back as a surge of pleasure spreads through your body, nearly numbing you. You think you see stars. He keeps working as you start to come down, still bucking your hips into his face, your hand covering your mouth. You take your hand away and whisper, “Holy shit.”

“Was I right or was I right?” he asks as he takes his fingers out of you and wipes them on your leg.

“Fuck.”

He pulls himself up so he’s lying on top of you, forehead pressed to yours. “I think I just fucked the smart-ass out of you.”

“Good job, master,” you mumble.

“Okay, not as successful as I thought.” He kisses your cheek. “Worth doin’ again?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Great.” He runs his finger over your collarbone. “Now I know how to torture you.”

“I’m not sure I should’ve taught you that.”

“Oh, you’ll appreciate it.” He yawns. “Wouldn’t mind a nap right now.”

“Me either.”

You don’t really fall asleep, occasionally diving into half-consciousness but never fully descending. You’re just happy to lie in his arms, with his face buried in your hair.

Eventually, though, it’s time to eat something – you always end up hungry after sex. You reluctantly pull out of his arms and throw your clothes back on, heading to the kitchen to heat up some left-overs.

Guzma comes up behind you while you’re eating, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “One time I’m gonna wake up and you’ll still be there,” he mutters as he rests his chin on your head.

“It’ll happen, I’m sure.”

You rock back into his chest. He holds you for a moment before asking, “You got any of that left?”

“Plenty.”

“Good.”

“Do you ever eat at Hala’s?”

“Hau lives on malasadas. I don’t think I want to know what the old man’s cooking is like.”

“Hau is an eleven-year-old with no idea what real food tastes like.”

“Still like yours better.” He lets go of you to go fix himself a plate.

He doesn’t take his jacket when he goes. You curl up with it in bed again, breathing in his scent and hoping his work with Hala is helping him. You let out your Pokémon and feel their presences, trying not to ache inside without him here. You wonder, even with the talk you had yesterday, if you’re in this a bit too deep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 comments, 800 kudos, 10,000 hits - I am stunned. I started writing this fic as a selfish, self-indulgent desire to right what I felt was a wrong at the end of the game and give myself some therapy through one of my favorite characters. I never expected this fic to take off like it did or last as long as it has. Many thanks for the feedback and the appreciation - it's such a good motivator to keep working.
> 
> I feel I need to make a confession before this goes any farther - friends, I regret to say I haven't finished Pokemon Sun. I found some spoilers looking up fan art and got so enraged over Guzma's ending that I just started writing. (I also might relate to his situation at the end of the game a bit too hard.) I've been so busy updating this fic since that I haven't had time to actually, y'know, get past Vast Poni Canyon and finish playing. I'm doing my best to research things and make sure stuff lines up, but things fall through the cracks (such as Lillie, oops). Any and all inaccuracies are my own fault - if any are too much for you to take, feel free to let me know and I'll do what I can to fix problems. Again, thanks for the feedback - it really does help.

_Want to go to the Battle Tree?_

_wut_

_Y’know, on Poni Island?_

_ugh_

_What’s wrong with Poni Island?_

_that creepy lil kahuna 4 starters_

_Hapu is not creepy. She’s sweet_

_whatever u say_

_woodnt stop messin w/us_

_Uh, she was trying to be a kahuna, what do you think she should’ve done_

_point_

_dont u hafta fite a shitton of trainers to get there_

_So? Big Bad Guzma afraid of some wimpy little trainers?_

_no_

_Then let’s do it_

_y_

_I need a King’s Rock for my Politoed. They sell them there_

_y u need me tho_

_Because they have double battles and I think it’ll be fun and a little bit easier_

_champ cant handle a challenge? :p_

_I’m trying to set up a date, jerk_

_oh_

_does that mean fun stuff after_

_Maybe. If you behave_

_ok when_

_My next day off is in two days_

_sweet_

_So we’re good?_

_duh_

_Cool_

The two of you fly out to the Ancient Poni Path, Guzma clinging to you like he’ll die if he lets go. When the Charizard lands and he finally loosens his grip, you take a deep breath. “Think you might let me breathe on the way home?”

“You coulda said somethin’,” he says as he slides down.

“Yeah, because you can hear so well with the wind screaming in your ears.”

Hapu and her grandmother walk out of the house you’ve touched down in front of, waving. “What brings you here today?” Hapu asks, shaking your hand.

“Gonna try to get to the Battle Tree,” you tell her, smiling. If she or her grandmother think Guzma’s presence is odd, they’re certainly not showing it.

“Oh, that’s a tough one. Do you know where you’re going?”

You pull out your Dex and bring up the map of Poni Island. “Roughly.”

“Here, let me help.” Hapu traces her finger along the map. “You’ll start out here on the ancient path, going north, then northeast. Then you make your way through Poni Grove to the plains. Keep heading northeast to the coast. Then you’ll go west through the Poni Gauntlet, and then you’ll reach the Tree!”

“Thanks!” That gives you a much better visual of where to go – there’s so much around the Poni Plains to explore. You wish you had the time to walk through the whole area, get lost for a day or two. There’s got to be great new Pokémon there.

“Can we go now?” Guzma grumbles.

“Just remember you can always come back to here or the Seafolk Village if you get tired. It’s not an easy trip for you or your Pokémon,” Hapu’s grandma says.

“I stocked up before we came out here,” you reply, patting your bag. “We’ll be alright.”

“And the most important thing is to have fun!” Hapu adds with a big smile.

“Whatever,” Guzma says.

“We will,” you tell her. You start to grab Guzma’s arm to drag him along, but reconsider and just beckon for him to follow you. He’s more than happy to leave. When you’ve gotten a good distance away from Hapu and her grandmother, you turn and ask, “Was that really that bad?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the best at getting along with people.”

“They were fine with you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’d be great until I said the wrong thing and –”

“Would you stop assuming you’re automatically going to piss everyone off the second you open your mouth?”

“You realize I spent years doing that on accident, and then on purpose?” He drags his feet in the dirt. “It’s kinda tough to stop.”

“Well, work on it.”

He groans. “Yeah, work on that, on top of my attitude, and my temper, and my everything fucking else.”

You stop, turn to him, and open your arms up for a hug. He just stares at you for a minute before realizing what you want and stepping into your embrace. “You’re doing good,” you tell him.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Stop beating yourself up.” You reach up and run your hand along his jaw. “It may not always go perfect, but you’re still trying.”

He reaches up and holds his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. “Whatever you say.”

“You’re getting better.” He just sighs; you can feel it in your hand as his mouth moves. “Let’s get going, okay?”

“Okay.” You pull away from him, but before you can get ahead of him again, he reaches out and takes your hand. You give him a smile and squeeze his hand as you start walking.

 

It’s so hard not to start searching for Pokémon. Occasionally as you make your way through the grass, they pop up in front of you, but Guzma urges you to just beat them or run and move on. As you pass through the middle of the plains, you think you see a flash of yellow and head off to follow it. Guzma grabs your arm. “That’s not the right way.”

“I know.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I saw a Pokémon.”

“So?”

“I thought it might be a Hypno.”

“Haven’t you been out here before?”

“This is the farthest I’ve gone. And I saw a Hypno, but I wasn’t able to catch it.”

He tries to steer you back in the right direction. “We can come back later. You want to get there before night time, right?”

“But I want –”

“We’ve gotta keep goin’.”

You deflate and trail along behind him, barely looking around. Eventually he notices your lack of energy and stops. “What the hell is up?”

You shrug. “I miss this.”

“Miss what?”

“Being out here. Finding things. Finding new Pokémon.”

“We can come back later.”

“I don’t have another day off for another week.”

“We don’t have to spend all day out here.”

“Yeah, but…” You do a quick spin, taking in the entirety of the land around you, the different scenery in the distance. “But I want to.”

Guzma takes your hand again. “Wouldja just hurry up and lose to someone?”

You walk beside him, trying to slip your fingers out of his grasp. “I’ve already told you, that’s –”

“Not fair, yeah, yeah.” He falls silent for a while. Soon the coast greets you, the sound of water welcoming after the eerie quiet of the wind in the plains. Finally he asks, “Why did you even go for Champion, anyways?”

“Kukui wanted me to.”

“You listen to that prick?”

“I knew him way before I knew you,” you remind him. “He introduced us, remember?”

He laughs. “I guess I do have him to thank for that.”

“I don’t see why you hate him so much.”

“I don’t hate’m. He’s too much of a do-gooder.”

“Then why the hell are you dating me?”

He changes his grip so that his fingers are laced through yours. “You’ve got a competitive streak to make up for it. He doesn’t.”

“Excuse me?” You stare up at him. “Have you _ever_ seen him at the Battle Royal Dome?”

“Like I go there all the time.”

“Still.” You pause. “You two grew up together, right?”

“Yeah. And he was a fuckin’ prick back then, too.”

You actually come to a stop, jerking Guzma’s arm back as he tries to keep walking. “Wait, so he’s only 23?”

“25.” He rolls his eyes. “He was always the responsible one, breakin’ up fights, making sure I ate my veggies and toed the line. It was boring as hell.”

“But you did your island trials together.”

“Because his parents freaked out about letting him go alone. And I needed something to do.”

You risk saying, “Because you needed to get away from –”

“It doesn’t matter why. We went, he did way better than me, and that’s it.”

“So you’re mad because you think he did better than you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this shit. He just sucks, okay?”

“Agree to disagree.”

You stop talking much as you come to the Gauntlet – there are trainers everywhere, ready to face both of you. And they’re tough, forcing you to use revives and hyper potions every few battles, helping Guzma when his Pokémon get too tired. By the time you’re near the entrance to the Battle Tree, you’re beginning to feel exhausted yourself, wondering if this was really worth it.

“Wanna go home?” Guzma asks, seeing you take a seat off to the side of the entrance.

“We’re already here, might as well go in,” you tell him, making no attempt to move.

He comes and sits next to you. “We don’t have to do this today.”

“Just give me a few minutes.”

“You realize it’s called the Battle Tree because you’re gonna have to battle there, right?”

You lean against him. “Duh.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “No one’s gonna get mad if you go home.”

“But I said I was doing this today, and I’m gonna fucking do this.”

“Stubborn.”

“Says the pot to the kettle.” You take comfort in breathing in his scent. After a few minutes, though, you know you need to get up or you’re not going to move again for a while. Groaning, you get to your feet. “Let’s get going.”

“Your funeral.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You bump him with your shoulder. “Besides, you’re helping me.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“We’re doing it. Get over it.”

As you walk toward the tree, two young men approach. They can’t be more than a few years older than you. You recognize the red hat instantly. “It can’t be.”

Guzma shakes his head. “You didn’t know Red and Blue basically run this thing?”

“Those are the worst nicknames,” you mutter.

“They’re the top tier here. You get to fight them if you get to the end.”

“That seems unfair.”

He elbows you. “They’re famous trainers, not gods.”

Before you can reply, the two men come up to you. “New challengers, huh?” Blue says, grinning.

“The Alolan Champion and the ex-boss of Team Skull. Interesting.” Red looks you two over, sizing you up. You remember that he was the first one to take down Team Rocket and gulp, hoping he doesn’t hate Guzma on sight.

“We’re here to kick your asses,” Guzma says, a smirk crossing his face. You grab his arm, squeezing tight – this is so not a good time to be taunting two former champions of Kanto.

“Oh, you are?” Blue just smirks back. “Why don’t you take us on right now, then, if you’re that confident?”

“I’m up for a battle,” Red says, tossing a Pokéball up and down in the air.

You tug Guzma’s sleeve hard, getting him to look down at you. “What did you just get us into?!” you hiss.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he quietly says back.

“I just wanted to get some Battle Points, not challenge two of the strongest trainers in the world!”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun givin’ ‘em a beat-down.” Guzma turns back to Red and Blue. “We accept.”

“You sure?” Red says, looking at you.

You choke down the frantic responses piling up in your throat. Everyone else is ready to go. There’s no good way of backing out of this, especially if you don’t want to look like a total coward in front of Guzma. “Let’s do this.”

Red and Blue throw their first Pokéballs, releasing a Pikachu and an Alakazam. “Let’s go!” Blue shouts as you pull out Arcanine’s ball and Guzma lets Golisopod out.

 

The battle is long and tense. You get lucky with a couple strong hits from Decidueye against the duo’s water Pokémon before Blue’s Arcanine takes him down, but Guzma has a difficult time against every creature except the Grass-types. It comes down to your last Pokemon, Mimikyu, and Guzma’s Ariados against Red’s Charizard and Blue’s Exeggutor. Mimikyu wipes the floor with Exeggutor before a good fire blast from Charizard sends Ariados reeling. The spider barely stays on its feet, glancing back at Guzma as he yells, “Good boy, GOOD BOY,” breaking his former chant of “Don’t hit don’t hit don’t hit fuck fuck fuck!”

“Mimikyu, Shadow Claw!” The black claw flings from under the Pikachu disguise, slamming into Charizard, but it doesn’t seem to do much – the dragon is clearly one of Red’s strongest, simply stomping its legs and roaring as Mimikyu’s claw retracts.

“Cross Poison!” You both breathe a sigh of relief when the purple spray lingers on Charizard, sinking into its cuts and poisoning it.

The feeling doesn’t last as Red shouts “Fire Blast!” again, the Charizard easily KOing Ariados with the flames.

You look over to Guzma as he returns Ariados to his ball. For a moment he looks enraged, before he grabs your shoulder and yells, “Kick this fucker’s ass!”

“Shadow Claw again,” you say, hoping Mimikyu’ll land a critical hit. Charizard looks more winded after the attack, but he’s not down for the count.

“Air Slash!” Guzma’s grip on you becomes crushing as the air slams into Mimikyu, sending him flying back. He gets to his – does he have feet? – feet, stumbling around, disguise head flopping around everywhere – he’s on his last legs. You watch as Charizard takes a knee, purple steam rising from its body, as the poison takes its toll.

You can’t use Play Rough, even though it’s a more powerful move – Fire types are strong against Fairy moves. You squeeze your eyes shut and say, “Shadow Claw, one more time,” hoping against anything for a critical hit.

There’s a slam. You open your eyes to see Charizard on the ground, overwhelmed by the poison and the black talons ripping into it. Red calls it back to its ball, smiling despite the loss.

For a moment you’re in total disbelief, staring at Mimikyu like the poor thing just turned into an actual Pikachu. Then Guzma grabs you and lifts you into the air as he pulls you into a bone-shattering hug, screaming, “Holy SHIT!”

You don’t know how to react – you start laughing, then coughing as the oxygen escapes you and doesn’t come back. Guzma notices he’s holding on too tightly and puts you back down, keeping an arm around your shoulders as he turns back to Red and Blue. “Knew she could do it!”

Blue walks forward, hand out for a shake. “Great match.”

“Best battle we’ve had in a long time,” Red says, still smiling. In a daze, you give both of them a quick handshake, barely holding on to either of their hands, caught up in shock. “You two work well together.”

“Thanks,” you manage to breathe out.

“We’ll see you when you get to the end of the Tree battles,” Blue says, giving you a two-finger salute before turning around and heading back to the Tree with Red.

You’re still light-headed, not entirely sure of what just happened. The two of you – you just beat two of the strongest trainers known. Your legs give out from under you, Guzma’s arm the only thing holding you up. Guzma notices and kneels down, helping you safely get into a sitting position, cradling you to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Holy fucking shit,” you manage to say. You turn to press your face into his chest and laugh. “We just did that!”

“You did it,” Guzma says, jabbing his finger into your chest.

“Not without you, doofus,” you tell him, wrapping your arm around his neck.

“I was just dead wei-”

“Oh my god, shut up and accept you just fucking beat Red and Blue.” You half-giggle, half-sob into his chest.

He holds you close. “Seriously, are you okay?”

You get yourself under control, breathing hard and ragged. “This is just – I haven’t walked around this much or battled this much in a long time.” You get your legs under you and push yourself to your feet, hands holding onto Guzma to keep yourself upright. “I’m used to three battles a day, max, and nothing like that.”

Guzma gets up, holding your arms in his hands. “You’re worn out. Let’s get you home.

“But the Battle Tree –”

“You’ve been here now. You can always come back.” Guzma sticks his hand in your pocket, pulling out your ride pager as you protest. Within minutes, there’s a saddled Charizard in front of you. Guzma helps you get in the front seat when you find yourself having trouble mounting up; how tired are you? You glance around and notice the sun is starting to set – you really have been out here all day, crossing the island. You stop objecting as Guzma climbs up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin pressed tightly to your head.

Once you’re home, he helps you to the couch, making you sit as he runs to the kitchen for water. You swig down half the glass when he hands it to you, not realizing how thirsty you were – you prepared for the battling, but not as much as you thought for the trek around the island. After getting more water down, you set it down and turn to him. “That was amazing.”

“You were awesome.” There’s genuine admiration in his eyes.

You pull him forward and down so he’s looking directly at you. “That was both of us. I couldn’t have done that without you.” Guzma opens his mouth to argue. You groan. “Just shut up and accept it. Big, bad Guzma took out two of the top trainers in the world.”

“It sounds so goofy when you say it,” he complains as he sits next to you.

“You really think it sounds any better when you call yourself that?” you tease him, slinging your legs over his thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck again.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he mutters. “You want a pizza?”

“Sounds great.”

When the food arrives, you don’t eat much – you’re more tired than hungry. You lean against him as he finishes a slice, closing your eyes and humming as you listen to his heartbeat.

The next moments are vague blurs to you, only recalled in flashes later – Guzma carrying you, tucking you into bed, brushing your hair back and kissing you on the forehead. When you wake up, he’s beside you, half-reclining against your headboard with pillows propping up his back, still in his clothes from yesterday. You snuggle in closer to his side and let yourself fall back to sleep with his arm around you, still feeling light-headed from the buzz of the battle.


	16. Chapter 16

When the alarm clock goes off, your first instinct is to hit snooze and bury your head back in Guzma’s side. But you’ve got tai chi this morning, and challengers later on – sticking to the routine sounds good today after how tiring yesterday was. You push yourself up onto Guzma and reach over him to turn off the alarm.

He’s semi-conscious – it’s hard to ignore loud, shrill beeping in your ear, but he’s trying. You shake his shoulder. “Time to get up.”

“Fahgyoo,” he mumbles, barely moving.

“C’mon, we’ve got stuff to do today.”

His eyelids just barely part, enough to glare down at you. “I’d enjoy this position more if it were a reasonable time to wake up.”

“You’ve gotta get used to it, at least for a little while.” You push yourself up and kiss his cheek. “Let’s get going.”

He turns his head and catches your lips with his, hand rising to hold the back of your head. You are suddenly very aware of his morning wood against your thigh. When he pulls away, he says, “We could stay in for a bit.”

“I don’t want to make Hala worried.”

He rolls his eyes. “I texted him last night, he knows what’s up.”

You press your head to his chest. “That’s good.”

“So we’re good to stay here?”

“No.” You get off him and head for the door, feeling stiff from lying in the same position most of the night and sore from all the walking you did yesterday. “You better not go back to sleep while I’m peeing.”

“I won’t, mom,” he says back as you exit the room.

 

Tai chi is harder than usual today. You’re more tired than usual and your muscles won’t stop complaining as you try to move fluidly through the stances. When you’re done, you collapse on the sand, groaning. “Are you alright?” Hala asks.

“I overdid it yesterday,” you answer, wishing your legs would stop hurting.

“Ya think?” Guzma says, leaning over you. You blow a raspberry at him. He just smirks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” you ask him as he sits down next to you.

“Uh, I tried? And you were the one who kept sayin’ we should keep goin’?” You blow another raspberry. “Very mature response from the champ.”

You remember that you have two challengers to face later and grumble. “Why aren’t you exhausted?”

“I spend all day wandering around this stupid island, trying to train my Pokemon.” He runs his fingers down your arm. “Why are _you_ so tired?”

“It’s been, like, a couple of months since I was doing my trials and running all over the place every day.” You sigh. “Guess I’m out of shape.”

“You’re getting old.”

“You really know how to cheer someone up, don’t you?”

“It was a joke.”

He starts piling sand over your arm. “What are you doing?”

“Burying the old tired lady who’s gonna die because she needs to build her strength back up.”

You fling your arm up and let it drop onto your chest, scattering sand everywhere. “You’re a jackass.”

He chuckles and puts his hand on your shoulder. “I was trying to make you laugh.”

“Try harder.”

Instead of cracking wise again, he rubs your shoulder, digging his fingers into the top of your shoulder blade. You wince; it’s not exactly painful but he’s pressing a spot you didn’t realize was tender. When he releases the pressure, you give a little sigh of relief. “You want a rubdown?” he asks.

You pull yourself onto your elbows. “Not here.”

“Duh.” He leans in and says, “I was thinking your bedroom?”

“You are obsessed with this morning sex thing, aren’t you?”

He frowns. “I’m not saying sex. Though I sure don’t mind if it does go there.”

“I’ll probably be too relaxed to want to do anything after.” You fully sit up and roll your shoulders, wondering how you hadn’t noticed how tight they were until now. “For a little while, anyways.”

“So you want to?”

“Yeah, if you really want to.”

“I do.” He gets up and holds his arm out to you. You grab him; he hauls you to your feet with barely any effort. “C’mon.”

 

You lie on your stomach on the bed, stripped down to your underwear, as Guzma straddles your back, hands rubbing your shoulders.  “Ya know I’ve seen you naked, right?” he asks as his thumbs ease under your bra straps.

“Didn’t feel like taking this stuff off.” The truth is you still feel a bit self-conscious getting naked in front of him, especially when it’s not for sex. It’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone, and it always takes a little while to get used to it with someone new.

“Right, you have to go to work after this.” His thumbs press lightly into your shoulder blades, nowhere near the pressure he was using before.

“Press a little harder?” He barely adds anything to what he’s already doing. “Seriously, harder please?”

He starts to dig his thumbs in, then pauses and says, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You wish he’d realize he’s not going to crush you anytime soon. “If it hurts, I’ll tell you.”

He sighs and pushes his thumbs in again. You give a little groan as he rubs them in circles; it’s good but he’s not quite hitting where the tension is. “More towards my neck?”

“Demanding all of a sudden, are ya?” He moves despite the mock-annoyed tone he’s giving you.

“That’s better,” you breathe as he digs in near your spine. After a couple minutes of working your shoulders and slowly starting to move down your back, you grin, turn your head to try to look at him and say, “I bet you like women telling you what to do in the bedroom.”

He stops for a second before he presses his fingers into your sides. “Don’t mind it,” he says, “but if ya haven’t noticed, I like being on top of things.”

“Does that mean you always have to be on top?”

His thumbs run from your spine to your sides and back again. “Nah. If we were back at my old place, I’d have you riding me on my throne.”

You try to turn your laugh into a cough. “Oh my god, you actually call it that?”

“King of Team Skull, babe.” He’s moving backwards, giving your ass a few loving squeezes before he starts kneading your thigh. “But yeah, it’d be fun to have you ride me. Or sit on my face.” He chuckles as he feels you shiver under his fingers. “You into that?”

“I think so.” You fall quiet other than a few little gasps and sighs as he tries to work the soreness from your legs. When he gets to your feet, you tell him, “You don’t have to –” You interrupt yourself trying to stifle a laugh as he rubs his thumb over the ball of your foot.

“Ticklish?” He runs his index finger from your heel to your toes, your foot twitching the whole time.

“Agh – stop it,” you tell him as he drags his nails gently over the ball of your foot again.

“You sure?” He swipes his thumb along the underside of your toes.

You think about kicking him for a brief moment before you try to pull your foot away. “Seriously, stop.”

He drops your foot back onto the bed. “Fine.” He crawls back up the bed on his knees and hands, hovering over you. “Want me to do your arms?”

“Think I’m good, thanks.” You do feel much more relaxed. You don’t really feel like getting out of bed.

He sits back on his knees.  “Good, because my hands are getting tired.”

You roll onto your side and look him over. “Can’t have that now, can we?” You think there’s a bulge in his pants but with his shirt hanging over it, it’s hard to tell. “You’re looking hot and bothered.”

He gets up off you and starts to get off the bed. “I’m good.”

“You are?” You manage to get yourself up and crawl toward him. He swallows hard. You pinch the edge of his shirt. “I don’t mind taking care of it.”

Sinking back onto the bed, he says, “I mean, if you want to…”

“Can’t let your hands get too fucked up today.” You rub your hand over his dick, feeling it through his clothes. “Man, that really worked you up, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He leans back as you push his shirt up and slip your hand into his pants. “I mean, didn’t it get you worked up a little?”

“A bit, yeah.” You pull his pants and boxers down until he’s fully exposed. He sighs as you run your hand over his shaft. “But I’d probably just want to lie there while you fuck me. It’s relaxing.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind that,” he says. You flick your thumb over his head, making him moan. “Fuck.”

As you pump him, the dry friction of your hand against his skin bothers you. “Just a sec,” you say as you take your hands off of him, stretching yourself until you manage to reach your nightstand. You open the top drawer and retrieve a small bottle of lube.

While you pour some on your hands, he says, “What’ve you got in there?”

“Some stuff.” You rub your palms together. “A couple vibrators, ben wa balls. And lube.”

You drip a little more lube into the palm of your hand and start pumping him again. He breathes, “Shit, that feels good.” After a couple minutes, he asks, “You into BDSM at all?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know. Like, bondage. Or dominance and submission.”

“You really liked it when I called you lord and master, huh?” His dick twitches in response. You grin up at him.

“Yeah, I did.” He’s starting to sweat a little. “I really fucking did, god, you’re so good.”

“I’ve never really tried it.”

“Wouldja – fucking shit – wanna?”

“I think so.” You take your hands away from him again, making him give an annoyed grunt, and reach behind your back. “But maybe we should talk about this later.”

“Less talk, more fuck,” he mutters, watching as you unhook your bra and pull it off. You move closer to him and take his cock in one hand, rubbing it over your breasts. “Holy shit, you’re the best.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “I try.”

You press his dick down between your breasts and squeeze them together as you push them up and down his shaft. His ability to talk reduces down to a chorus of “fuck,” “shit,” and “oh god.” It doesn’t take long after that to get him to come, his release spilling over your chest. You wait for him to completely finish before you pull away, examining his handiwork.

He pulls his pants back up again as you reach for a tissue to clean up the mess. “Thanks for that.”

“Gotta make sure my man is taken care of.” When you’re sure you’re clean, you head to the bathroom.

He comes up behind you and holds you as you wash your hands. “I’d say your man is pretty well taken care of.”

“Good.” You dry your hands, then yelp as he picks you up with just his arms wrapped around your waist and takes you back to the bedroom. He lays you down on your stomach and starts kissing the back of your neck. “Okay, this is really nice,” you say as he makes his way to your shoulder, “but I’ve gotta go soon.”

He growls against your skin and sits back up. “Your job sucks, drop it.”

You find your bra and start putting it back on, saying, “You know what I’m going to say.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He’s content to watch you get dressed. It almost feels like a strange reverse-striptease. You show him your ass when you lift up the skirt, trying to make sure it’s falling correctly. He whistles.

“You know I expect you to strip for me at some point, right?” you toss over your shoulder as you look for your shoes.

“I’ll throw in a lapdance for free if you do it too.”

“Done.” He comes up to hug you again. You push him away. “Now stop making me think dirty thoughts, I’ve gotta go work with children in a bit.”

 

As soon as you get home, you flop on the couch, wanting to take a nap. But soon the knock on the door comes. Guzma grabs your shoulders as soon as the door’s shut behind him, pushing you until your back hits the wall, kissing you the whole way. For a moment you get caught up in it, but when he moves to your neck and starts to pull up your dress, you stop and ask, “You know I like you for more than just sex, right?”

He pulls his head up to look at you, puzzled. “Huh?”

“Like, we don’t have to be fucking like Lopunnies for me to like you.”

“I know.” He keeps tugging at your skirt.

You press your fingers over his lips. “You do?”

He shrugs. “I mean, I can’t say I _get_ why you do, but yeah, there must be some reason you’re keepin’ me around.”

You sigh and grab his wrists. “I’m not just ‘keeping you around.’”

He lets go of the wad of fabric in his hand. “So I take it you’re not in the mood.”

“Cuddling?”

“Most stereotypical chick thing ever.” But he gets off you, heading for the couch.

You sit next to him, curling into his side as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. “You know why I like you?”

“I literally just said I don’t get it,” he says as he presses his face into your hair.

“You’re kind.” He snorts. “Egh, that felt gross.”

“I am gross.”

“A little sometimes, yeah, but so is everyone.” You take his free hand and run your thumb over his fingers. “I mean, you’ve heard my sexy talk.”

“Yeah, we need to work on that.”

“But back to my point – you’re kind.” He shakes his head; you can feel it on your scalp. “You may not show it to everyone, but Plumes and the gang loved you for a reason. You treated them right.”

“Until I started yelling and throwing things.”

“Not my point.”

“Yeah, but it's true.”

You grip his hand and look up at him. “Would you shut up and let me compliment you?”

“Whatever.”

“I'll take that as a yes.” You lay your palm against his; his hands are so large compared to yours. “I like how big you are. You're strong.” He opens his mouth to protest. You put your finger over his lips. “Shush. You may not always do good things with it but you're working on stopping that.”

“Are we done yet?” he asks. His cheeks and ears are turning red.

“No. I'm not done until you're a mushy pile of goo on the floor.”

“I'll come back as a Grimer and mess this whole place up.”

“Ew, no.” You trace your finger up his arm, around where his tattoo used to be. “And I mean, you're strong mentally too.”

“I'm not the smartest guy around-” he starts.

“What did I just say about shutting up?”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbles.

You lay your hand on his chest. “You've been through a lot of shit. And you're still here, working on it instead of just letting it fester and control you.” He doesn't respond. You continue, “I like your style.”

He laughs at that. “Really?”

“It'd be nice to see you wear a normal pair of pants at some point, but the whole black and white thing works really well. And the accents are nice.”

“Accents?”

“Y'know, stuff like your glasses and your watch, little bits of color.” You glance down at his watch. “Where'd you get that?”

He sighs and mumbles, “Lusamine.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ick. Sorry I asked.” After a moment, you say, “I like your –”

Now he's annoyed. “Will you stop?”

“Last one, I promise.” He nods. “I like your perseverance.”

“Eh?”

“You keep trying and doing things. Fail as a trial captain? Start your own gang. Get beaten? Train like hell to try to whip 'em. Get shit on back home? Leave and figure out your shit.” You reach up and rub his shoulder. “You just keep going. And you're gonna get where you need to be. I know that.”

It's quiet for a moment. Then Guzma asks, “Are ya done now?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I'm done.”

“Good, because I think a nap'd feel good right now.”

“Did you take in any of what I just said?”

“Uh huh.” He lies down, arm still around your shoulder, dragging you with him. “Get some rest. This morning was too fuckin' early.”

You study his face for a while as he tries to sleep, arms around your waist, until dreams take you too.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wanted to put more story stuff in this chapter but it's been way too long since I've updated and sometimes you just want a ton of smut, y'know? So here ya go.

“Do you ever want to go back to Po Town?” You rest your head on Guzma’s shoulder.

“Do you always have to ask me this shit when I’m right in the middle of a case?” he says, annoyed, making no move to pause his game or put it down.

“Because you’re always playing Phoenix Wright when I want to talk,” you tell him.

“You realize this is your fault.”

“I didn’t mean that you should play them 24/7.”

“I’m not. This Mask*DeMasque thing is really fuckin’ complicated, so I wanna get through it.”

You sigh. “Then can we talk when you get a minute?”

He puts the game down. “That means we need to talk now, I guess.”

“No.”

“C’mon. You want to. What’s up?”

You look up at him. “I’m serious. Do you ever think of going back to Po Town?”

He shifts around, uncomfortable. “Sometimes.”

“Plumes still goes back there.”

He blinks. “She does?”

“I think she was pretty serious when she said the grunts were her little siblings.”

“She told you that?”

You smile. “The first time we met. She said they were numbskulls but it wasn’t fair for me to be thrashing them.”

“That’s Plumes for ya.” He leans back, sinking deeper into the couch. “I just – I don’t – what would I even do?”

“I dunno. Talk to people? Get some of your stuff back?”

“I took anything I had that was worth keeping.”

“Maybe encourage them to find somewhere to live that isn’t a dump?”

He rubs his face. “I think it’s still home to most of the kids that are stayin’. And kickin’ them out of their home again – no.” He slumps. “Besides, I don’t know how I’d convince ‘em I’m not just comin’ back to restart the team. Hell, I don’t know if I’ve convinced myself I’m not going to do it sometimes.”

“They’re going to run out of money sometime.”

“I’m hopin’ it’ll be a while. The Aether Foundation was pretty damn generous to us.”

That makes you think of an idea. “Why not go to the Aether Foundation again?”

He stares down at you like you just suggested that Rockruffs can fly. “You kiddin’?”

“No.” You try to talk through your thoughts as they come to you. “I mean, it’s not Lusamine running it anymore, she’s probably behind bars if she’s not still totally whacked out from the Nihilego poison. I’m pretty sure Miss Wicke’s holding the fort down, and she wants to make it into what it was supposed to be in the first place. And Gladion’s working there, it can’t be that bad.”

“No way.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t trust ‘em.”

“It was just a thought.” You shrug. “They’ve probably lost a lot of sponsorships since the Ultra Space shit went down and everything came out. Might not be able to afford it even if you wanted them to.”

“If I never hear about ‘em again, I’ll be happy.”

“I just wish there was a way I could help those kids. They deserve better than living in a run-down, abandoned town.”

“Don’tcha get money for bein’ the Champion?”

“They pay me, yeah, enough to live without worrying as much about my mortgage.” You think about it. “I do have some money saved up from all the battling I did along the way, but I’m only one person. I can’t just bail ‘em out, or give them jobs, or do much of anything, really.”

“I get you wanna do somethin’ good, but I dunno what to do either.”

You fall silent for a while, thinking, trying to come up with something that could work. Nothing really comes to mind – every idea comes with so many reasons for why it wouldn’t work or why people wouldn’t want to listen. But eventually you have to try something, right?

Guzma runs his hand down your thigh, suddenly shifting your thoughts. “You trying to distract me?” you ask.

“Maybe.” His hand moves back up your leg until his palm is touching the edge of your shorts.

“It’s working.” You feel kind of bad for moving away from the topic so easily, but it feels like a dead-end row right now. His hand starts moving again, but you catch it and stop him. He gives you a questioning look. “So you mentioned BDSM.”

His face and ears start to turn pink. “Yeah.”

“You’re into it?”

“Yeah.”

“So what are you into, exactly?”

He looks you straight in the eye, even though he’s turning redder as the conversation keeps going. “Tyin’ people up. Dominatin’ you. Bein’ in control.”

“Pain?” You hope this isn’t going somewhere dark for him.

“No.” He pauses, then keeps talking, words coming out in a confused tumble. “I mean, if you like it, that’s cool, but I don’t think – I mean, we could try it but – I don’t know – it would be –”

You interrupt him, squeezing his hand. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, we need to talk about limits and what you do and don’t wanna do.” He bites his lip. “I mean, the pain thing is what most people usually think about with it, so it’s gotta come up at some point.” He thinks. “I mean, I do like markin’ you, like, hickeys, but that’s less about the pain and more about seein’ it and knowin’ I’m the one who did it. Or knowin’ you wanna mark me as yours.”

You want to change the subject. “So what else is there to it, if it’s not all pain?”

“Lotta different stuff.” He counts off on his fingers as he names things. “Like I said, bondage, suspension, dominance, pain, sensation play… there’s a lotta stuff to work with.”

“I…” You try to phrase what you want to say gently. “I want to try it but – I’m not sure if I’m ready for it yet.”

“Do you trust me?”

You have to be honest. “I do, most of the time. But then there are days when you get moody and I get worried you’re going to run away or get out of control again.”

“I get that.” His thumb rubs circles into your leg. It’s soothing. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I don’t think you would, or at least not intentionally.” You entangle your arm with his, pushing under his hand until you’re holding it.

He leans in closer. “I mean, that’s the good thing about safe words and junk. You tell me you’re uncomfortable, I stop.”

“You would?” You remember the night he got furious when you stopped making out with him. Sure, it wasn’t entirely about wanting to have sex, but it was still a bit weird.

“I promise.” He takes your hand in both of his. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but – if you say no, I’ll stop. I promise.”

“We might need to test that a bit.” You look down. “I just – I need to be sure.”

“Okay.” You’re surprised he’s so compliant. Maybe he’s remembering that night, too.

You shift and turn yourself so you’re straddling his lap. “Besides, we haven’t even really, y’know, done the full thing – I mean, we haven’t done full penetration yet. I feel like we should fix that before we dive into the kinky shit.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You ready for that?”

You slip your hand out from between his and hold his shoulders, tilting and moving your head so you can kiss him.

He goes along with you for a few minutes before pulling away and saying, “You didn’t answer me.”

“I think so.”

“You’re not sure?”

You look into his eyes. “I can tell you to stop if I change my mind, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You have protection?”

He grins at that. “Yeah. You doin’ any birth control?”

“Uh huh.” You can feel your face heating as you try to explain to him. “I just – I feel safer when it’s not just me.”

“I get that.” He glances around. “So you wanna do this here or somewhere else?”

“We could move to the bedroom.”

“Sounds good.” As you get off him, he says, “We really need to break this place in, though.”

“Oh?” You take his hand as he gets up.

“I mean, the only places we’ve fucked are the bed and the couch.” He takes a nice, long, pointed look at your dining room table.

You turn back and raise your eyebrow. “We are not doing it anywhere where food goes.”

“But the kitchen counter is fuckin’ perfect!”

“You get to sanitize it after, then.”

He groans. “Do you ever actually think about anything sexy when you’re in the mood?”

“I mean, if your dick doesn’t count…”

“Mm, yeah, that works.” You’ve entered your room – he takes you by the shoulder, turns you around, and kisses you. “What else?” he asks when he comes up for breath.

“Your hands.”

He cups your face with them. “What about ‘em?”

“Um.” You didn’t know he was trying to quiz you. “They’re big.”

“That’s it?” He’s walking you slowly backward to the bed.

“I – uh – I like your fingers. Inside me.” The backs of your knees hit the mattress. He leans over you as you let yourself fall back onto the bed. “I like it when you’re feeling me up.”

“Anywhere special?” he asks.

“My sides. My legs.” Your breath hitches as his hands move down your shoulders. “My boobs.”

He smiles as his gingers run over your chest. “You're so quiet when we fuck,” he says.

“You want me to be louder?”

“I wanna hear you enjoyin' it.” He squeezes you nipples through your shirt. “I'd like to hear you talk dirty.”

“And say what?”

“How much you want me. How you need me.” He pushes his hips down and grinds against you. “How good it's gonna feel when I'm inside you.”

You reach down and feel his erection. “It'll feel good.”

“Just good?” He rocks his hips against your hand.

“Fuck, you're big.” You trace the outline of his cock through his pants. “I don't know if I can take all of you.”

“We can try,” he says, grinning. “B'sides, s'not like I'm gonna pop it in cold.” He climbs on top of the bed, chest hovering over your head. You take the opportunity to run your hands down his chest to the bottom of his shirt, slipping them up and under it. He lets out a nice moan as your fingertips jostle his piercings. Then he pulls you fully onto the bed, bending down to kiss you once your head is under his. He only pulls away to take his shirt off and toss it away.

You try to relax as he kisses down your jaw to your neck, twining your fingers through his hair. He notices your tension and asks, “You okay?”

“Fine.”

He doesn't continue. “You like this?”

“Yeah.” You run your hand down his head, over his undercut and down his back, making him shiver.

He's still just staying in the same spot. “I wanna hear you.”

You glance at him, slightly exasperated. “Hear me what?”

“Y'know, makin' those cute little noises you let out sometimes.” He presses his thumb along your collarbone until he meets shirt. “Or tellin' me how it feels. I like hearin' you talk.”

“Okay.” He leans down and kisses along the line of your collarbone he just traced. You try to think of something to say as he licks a stripe from the hollow of your throat up your neck, but all you can manage is a deep breath and a sharp gasp as he gently sinks his teeth into your skin. “Fuck.” Then you think of something. “Don't - don't leave a mark where people can see.”

He looks up at you. “Why?”

“I really don't feel like being the one who gets to explain to Acerola why I have a bruise on my neck, or what a hickey is.”

“She's a smart kid. And a teenager. I think she knows.”

“I just don't want to worry about it, okay?” You imagine people seeing it and shudder. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing… But you don't feel like answering any questions that would come of it. “Just – somewhere else. Please.”

“No problem.” He grins up at you. “Maybe I'll do it on your hip, so every time I grab you, you'll remember it.”

“That'd be nice.” He's starting to pull up your shirt. You help him get it off before he presses his face into your breasts, his hands caressing your sides and your stomach. “I think I know your favorite part of me,” you tell him as you rub his shoulders.

“I mean, the rest of you is great too,” he says, lifting one hand to pull your bra strap down, “but you're just – so soft.” Instead of taking off your bra, he just pushes it down, getting it out of the way so he can plant kisses on your bare skin. He licks a circle around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You groan as his other hand comes up to the breast he's not focusing on, pinching and squeezing your other nipple. After several minutes just toying with you, he looks up and says, “So I've heard some girls can get off just from having their breasts played with.”

“I don't think I can.”

“You ever try?”

“No. And I don't want to if it takes much longer.” It feels great but certainly not like you'd come from it.

“Whatever,” he sighs as he runs his hands down to your stomach and the waistband of your shorts.

A thought occurs to you. “How do you stand wearing that much black and a fuckin' sweatshirt and pants here?”

He stops working at the button on your shorts. “You're really asking this right now?”

You sit up and unhook your bra, taking it all the way off. “Yeah. It's friggin' Alola. How are you not burning up?”

“It's uncomfortable sometimes,” he admits, “but Po Town and some of the other places on Ula'Ula can get pretty cold.”

You snicker. “You think you have any idea what cold is?”

He glares at you. “Uh, yeah.”

“Go to Unova in winter, see how you survive.” You grin at him. “Hell, I bet you'd be cold in summer.”

“You're really makin’ fun of me for growin' up here?” Despite his annoyed tone, he doesn't really seem pissed, toying with your waistband, running his fingers around your navel.

“No.” You lie back. “I was just thinking how cold you'll be if we ever go visit my mother.”

Now he's appalled. “You were thinking about _your mom_?”

“It just popped into my head!” you snap.

“Okay, okay, you just really need to try not to kill my boner if you want me to fuck you.” He leans over you, elbows propped by the sides of your head. “I like hearin' you talk sexy, not about stuff like that.”

“I don't really know how to talk sexy, if you haven't already figured that out.”

“Just -y'know-” He goes back to your shorts button. “Tell me when you like something. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” He smirks. “Or what you wanna do to me.”

You press his head down until his mouth and nose lie against your pussy. “I want you to eat me out right now.”

He lifts up just enough to look at you. “Good start.” He licks you through your shorts. It’s barely enough pressure for you to feel anything, but it excites you. You buck your hips up a little as he stays there, breathing in your scent. He looks up at you again. “And?”

Why is this difficult? You can think of things to say but you feel like they’ll sound silly if you actually say them. “I… I want you to stick your tongue inside me. I want you to suck my clit.” He starts pulling your shorts down. “I want your hands all over my thighs.” He presses his lips against your underwear, breath heavy, as he takes hold of your legs. “I want you to lick me until I’m screaming.” He pulls the crotch of your underwear aside with his teeth and pushes his tongue into you. You moan. Then he stops moving. “I want – I need you to tongue-fuck me, shit, that feels good, ohh.” You keep babbling as he kisses your lips and moves his tongue around inside you, feeling your walls. It’s taking all your effort not to roll your hips up into him, but you don’t want to hurt him. You sink your hands into his hair and switch from talking to breathing hard, letting out moans and sighs and gasps as he laps at your pussy. He pulls up and wraps his lips around your clit, making you shout, “Oh, fuck!” as he toys with it with his tongue.

He pulls off for a second. “You wanna come?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” He licks your clit, making you push your hips up, trying to get more contact.

“Say my name.”

“Guzma – shit, oh fuck,” you manage as he starts sucking you off again. “Guzma, Guzma – fuck!” You’re over the edge, rocking your hips against his mouth, eyes rolling up in pleasure. He only stops once you stop moving, trying to recover.

He gets up and pulls off his own pants and boxers, already wet with his precum, before he gets your underwear all the way off. Then he moves so he’s hovering over you, kissing you, hands twining in your hair. “Was that good?” he asks, just barely pulling away; you can feel his lips moving against yours.

“So good,” you pant against his mouth. He kisses you again, tongue sliding deep into your mouth, almost like he’s trying to fuck you all over again. You can feel his dick against your thigh, fully hard and throbbing. You push him off for a moment and say, “Protection?”

He gets off of you and pulls open the bottom drawer of your nightstand. “I’m not gonna fuck you yet,” he teases as he pulls a wrapped condom from a box inside the drawer.

“When the hell did you put those there?” you ask.

He winks at you. “When you weren’t lookin’.” As he rips it open, he says, “Didn’t exactly want to keep them around a fuckin’ kid.”

“That would be awkward,” you mumble as you watch him roll it on, pumping himself a few times and groaning. “And you say I bring up weird shit in bed.”

“I am not saying another word about that,” he promises as he kneels over you again.

“So what was that about not fucking me yet?” you ask, pulling his head down.

“Wanna make sure you’re good’n ready.” He kisses you again, hand moving down to cup your pussy.

When he pulls away, you say, “I mean, I’m wet as hell, here, I –” You stop as he pushes one of his fingers into you. “I mean, you can do whatever the hell you want, but-” He sticks another finger in and thrusts. “Y-you’re just trying to shut me up, aren’t you?”

“’Course not.” His fingertips find your g-spot and rub in circles on it, making you clench around him. “I wanna hear you.”

You grab his arms as he keeps going, giving a few sharp thrusts before returning to your g-spot and curling. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whimper as he stops.

“Good.” He pushes in a third finger, spreading them apart as he goes in deep, making you shiver as he tries to stretch you. Then he presses his fingers into your g-spot again, rubbing back and forth, smiling as you roll your hips against his hand.

“Are – are you trying to make me squirt again?”

“Maybe.” He goes back to thrusting in and out, slow at first, then fast and hard. “Maybe I just know how good it feels.” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Shit, it feels great, I love it –” He goes back to pushing and rubbing your g-spot, making you whine. “Keep doing that, please, Guzma, it feels so good –”

“I love it when you say my name,” he growls before kissing you again, tongue-fucking your mouth as he keeps working on your pussy. Now that you’ve started making noise, it feels like you can’t stop, moaning into his mouth. His other hand finds its way to your breast and starts squeezing, occasionally flicking the thumb over your nipple.

You suddenly get a strange feeling like you’re about to pee, right now. You push him off and try to tell him. He just grins. “That’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Just relax.” He pushes into your g-spot even harder.

It’s pretty difficult to relax when you really feel like you need the bathroom pronto, but he won’t stop. Eventually, though, you do manage it, getting used to his rhythm. It’s not exactly a squirt – it’s more like a little more fluid pushing out of you over your lips and onto his hand. It feels good, though, like a deeper orgasm. He smiles and pulls out of you, looking over his soaked hand.

“That was – that was weird,” you tell him as he wipes his hand on the sheets.

“Not what you were expecting?”

“Not really.” You sit up. “I mean, it felt good, but I guess I was expecting something – more dramatic.”

“Always depends on the person.” He gives you a short, sweet kiss, lightly rubbing his wet hand over your clit. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go again.”

“I don’t think it’ll be long,” you tell him, pulling him closer. You run your hand down his stomach to his cock. “Sorry I’ve been hogging all the fun.”

He laughs. “You think I haven’t been enjoyin’ this?”

“Well, yeah, but –”

Surprisingly, he takes your wrist and pulls your hand away, stopping you from running your fingers over his dick. “Means I can last longer when I’m in you.” You shiver as he changes his grip so he’s holding your hand.

When you’re ready, he moves slowly, carefully lining himself up with your entrance. You hold your breath as he pushes in. “You okay?” he asks. You nod. He keeps going, but patiently, taking his time filling you. “Fuck, you feel good,” he says.

“So do you,” you answer.

He finally gets himself fully in, head brushing your cervix, hips against your legs. “You’re still tight,” he gasps as you try to widen your legs.

“You’re so fucking big.” It’s not painful but there’s a little bit of discomfort – then again, he’s hitting somewhere deep inside you that you didn’t even know was pleasurable.

He pulls back slowly until only his head’s inside before pushing back in. He’s being so gentle – it’s unexpected. “You can go faster if you want,” you tell him.

He looks into your eyes. “I wanna enjoy every minute of this.” He pulls out again. “Wanna memorize every inch of you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer as he thrusts, his chest pressing against yours. He rests his forehead on yours, watching your face, breath occasionally hitching as he rocks in and out of you. His pace is almost torture, but it’s sweet at the same time.

You think about it hard before you start to say, “I love-”

He presses his fingers to your lips. “I don’t wanna hear that unless I know you’re not just – just liking getting fucked.” You nod. His fingers press between your lips. You open your mouth and he slips two fingers inside. You make him groan as you suck on him.

Gradually his pace picks up, him grunting when he pushes deep inside. It hurts a little with him being able to touch your cervix, but it still feels wonderful. He moves his free hand to your pussy and starts rubbing his thumb over your clit. Soon you’re whimpering as he works, feeling another orgasm coming on. “I’m gonna – gonna come,” you tell him.

“You want me to keep going?” he asks.

“St- stop.” He comes to a complete halt, dick half inside you, thumb raised. “I mean – you can keep going but – but I wanna make this last too.”

He has a soft smile on his face as he pulls his hand away from your pussy. “Awesome.” He starts thrusting slowly again. You pull him in for a kiss, moaning into his mouth.

He kisses his way from your mouth over your cheek to your ear, gently tugging on the lobe with his teeth. His fingers thread through your hair, brushing your scalp, sending tingles down your spine.

Your mouth is next to his ear now. “I like it when you talk dirty,” you tell him.

He lets out a breathy laugh and pulls up to look at you again. “God, you’re so perfect. You fit me like you were made for me.” His pace starts to get faster again. “You’re tight, but you’re so wet, this is so easy. I feel like I could just keep going and going.” He reaches his hand down again. “And when you clamp up on me, it feels so fucking good. You’re so – you’re so –” He’s having trouble with words as he speeds up. “You’re fucking beautiful and I don’t know why you’re letting me do this, why you’d want to do this with me –”

You place your fingers over his lips this time. “Shut up.” You wish he wasn’t so insecure, that he’d see the good inside himself. “I want you. I only want you.” You pause to let out a moan as he goes particularly deep. “You’re so good, you’re so – oh my god…”

“This is the only thing I’m good at,” he says as your hand falls away from him. “But at least I’m fucking great at it.”

You run your hand over your face. “It’s not the only thing,” you tell him, exasperated. “You’re a great trainer, your Pokémon and your team love you, you’re a good leader, you’re-”

He’s turning red. It’s cute. “I just – stop.” He jerks inside you and comes to a stop. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

You roll your hips up, trying to feel more of him in you. “I want you, Guzma, fuck, I need you, keep going –” You let out an embarrassing whine as he starts thrusting again, fast and hard. “You feel so fucking good, your cock is amazing, shit.” His hand slips to the back of your head as you feel yourself getting close to the edge. His pace is getting erratic as he starts to feel his own climax. You tighten your hold on him as you keep talking. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close, you’re so good, holy shit –” You stop and pull in your breath as you fall over the edge, eyes going wide as pleasure surges through you. He watches you the whole time, studying your face as your mouth opens in a silent scream. When you’re finished, he pulls his hand off your pussy again and presses his face into the bed beside you, thrusts becoming frantic as he starts to orgasm. You don’t think you’ll ever forget the way his cock feels inside you as he pumps into you, groaning into the sheets as he comes deep inside you.

Holding him as he starts to come down, you whisper into his ear, “I’ll never want anyone the way I want you.” He shudders, starting to pull his softening dick out of you. “And I don’t just mean the sex. The sex is fucking amazing, but it’s not all of it. I want you. All of you. All the mess, all the good, all the –”

He turns his head to look at you. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” Your hand drifts over his back. “Why would I lie?”

“I’m not saying that, it’s just – the sex –”

“It’s not just that.” You nuzzle your head against his neck. “I promise, it’s not just that. I’ll tell you the same thing an hour from now, a day from now, hopefully a year from now, whatever we’re doing. I want you.”

He wraps his arms around you, turning so you’re both on your sides instead of him crushing you. “Why?”

You groan. “Oh my god, just accept it, okay? I want you. I _want_ you.” You wish that if you said it enough, if you said it with enough conviction, he’d start believing you.

He falls silent. At least he’s not trying to argue with you. You content yourself with running your hands over his chest as he holds you tight. You look up at his face – he’s gazing off into space, somehow distant even as he’s pressing you against him. You kiss his neck and hope maybe, just maybe, he’ll start to realize he’s worth something.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I kind of hate the tags for this fic - I'm not good at tagging things and I feel awkward just listing off sex acts as they happen to pop up. Feel free to throw suggestions at me for better tags and stuff, I ain't got no idea what I'm doing.
> 
> Also wanted to bring some attention to fanworks for the fic. (This fic has fanworks. Y'all, you seriously make my day.) First, derpcat-collabs over on tumblr drew a lovely bit of fan art: http://derpcat-collabs.tumblr.com/post/156023819335/um-priellan-i-made-you-fanart-because-your And second, a commenter named tootoids made this awesome playlist for the fic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6W7SNccNhc&list=PLTcNipKOcQQ5rKF3F2B8rjhjw8pk61pCN&index=5 (I listened to it a few times writing this chapter, thanks for pointing me towards new stuff to listen to!) Thanks again for your work, friends!

When you finish tai chi the next morning, Guzma stays with you on the beach. He scratches the back of his neck. “Come watch me this morning?” he asks.

“You sure?” You haven’t been around Iki Town much since that morning you saw Guzma yelling at Hala – you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, and it was more than a little bit awkward.

He grins. “I think somethin’ cool is gonna happen. I want you to see it.”

You sit a ways away from the platform in the center of the village, behind Guzma – you’re hoping he’s not putting pressure on himself because you’re watching. Hala just waves at you when he sees you and goes on as if nothing’s different from normal.

It’s another battle morning, Guzma’s Dewpider against Hala’s Makuhita again. This time it’s a much closer match – the two don’t have anything super-effective to hit each other with, and Dewpider’s leveled up enough to go toe-to-toe with Makuhita this time. Still, Makuhita gets the last punch in, sending Dewpider flipping onto his back.

You wince as Guzma stares, unmoving, hoping he’s not getting mad again. He starts moving quickly, putting Dewpider back in his ball, then walking forward and holding his hand out. Hala takes it and shakes as he speaks quietly to Guzma. You blink. What just happened?

Guzma doesn’t look happy as he hops off the side of the platform, and you weren’t expecting him to, but he’s not upset like usual either – maybe annoyed? You get to your feet and hug him. “Whoa,” he says, reeling back a step. “What’s up?”

Is it worth trying to explain? “I’m proud of you,” you tell him as you look up at him.

He scratches his neck again. “I mean, you didn’t get to see the –”

You get on your toes and kiss him on the cheek. “That was good to see.”

“But it wasn't what I wanted to show you.” He glances around. “You still have time before you have to go, right?”

“Yeah.” He takes your hand and starts to lead you away. “Where are we going?”

“Melemele Meadow.” He stops. “Well, the Pokémon Center first, then the meadow.”

It only takes a few minutes to get Dewpider healed up – he was the only one who needed it. Then you're off - it's a quiet walk this morning. When you reach the meadow, there are a few trainers around, tourists looking for Oricorios and nectar. Guzma smirks and challenges one to a battle.

The other trainer's Butterfree doesn't last long, but Guzma doesn't gloat when Dewpider knocks the other Pokémon out, staring intently at the spider. You watch with him as Dewpider begins to glow, spheres of light rising into the air around him - he's evolving. His form shifts and stretches, pulling up and outward, getting much bigger – when the light fades, the spider stands nearly as tall as Guzma. The bulb of water around his head is now massive along with the rest of him. Guzma pets him happily as he looks around, getting used his new perspective.

“That's awesome!” the Butterfree trainer says.

“Right?” Guzma's smile completely takes over his face. You're a bit nervous standing near a six-foot-tall spider, but his happiness is catching – you can't help smiling too.

For a while you just watch the spider – Araquanid, according to your Dex – wander the meadow, exploring the new surroundings – he could barely see over the grass and flowers before now.  He scares a few Pikipeks and Caterpies as he walks, playfully batting at them with one of his legs as they skitter or fly away. “He's cool, huh?” Guzma says. You nod. “I know bug-types aren't your thing, but-”

“They're - they're fine!” you try to insist, even though your heart skips a beat whenever Araquanid takes a few steps towards you. Guzma raises an eyebrow. You sigh. “Okay, okay, they freak me out a little bit.”

He laughs. “Then why the hell are ya datin' _me_?”

“I can get used to them.” You lay your hand over his. “Besides, I like seeing Pokémon evolve. You know what they are one minute and then the next, they're bigger, they're stronger, sometimes completely different.” You look over at him. “Even with the stubborn ones who don't want to at first, it's usually worth the wait.” He rolls his eyes before he bends over to kiss you.

After a couple minutes, he’s the one who pulls away and asks, “Do you need to get going?”

You flip open your Dex and look at the time. “Shit, yeah, I do. Sorry.”

“Like I’ve said, quit your job.” Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him.

He waves you off as you approach your house and keeps heading down the path towards Iki Town, a bit of swagger back in his step. You watch him leave before you turn to your door, fishing out your keys. Before you put them in the lock, you notice something strange – a white envelope sticking between the door and the frame. You pull it out and look at it, curious; you rarely get mail from anyone other than your mother. It’s unlabeled, not even your name on it.

As you enter the house, you tear open the back and pull out a piece of paper. When you read what’s on it, you stop cold.

_Could you please tell my son that I’d like to speak with him? I haven’t seen him in over a month now. I’m sure you know how your own mother feels about you – this mother just wants to make sure her baby’s okay. I’ll be waiting at the Pokémon Center Café near Route 2 tomorrow afternoon._

_Rita Willow_

Half of you wants to tear the paper up right here and now. Maybe Guzma’s mother has good intentions, but considering what happened the last time he saw her… But maybe she does just want to meet him on her own. Maybe she won’t tell his father this time – but you remember last time and you doubt it.

It’s hard to get yourself moving again after that, but eventually you’re dressed with a splash of hastily done make-up. You tuck the note into your bag with your ride pager after you call a Charizard. When you get to Mt. Lanakila, you give cursory greetings before coming to Hala. “What’s the matter?” he asks when he sees your face.

You pull him aside and take out the note. “This was at my door when I got home this morning.”

He reads over it quickly. He’s not one to show when he’s shaken, but it takes him a moment to compose himself before he speaks again. “This is the first note you’ve gotten?”

“Yeah.” You watch him for a reaction. “Have you gotten any?”

“A few.”

“Does he know?”

“No.” He sighs. “I felt it wouldn’t help matters for him to see these.”

You take the letter back from him, checking the whole piece of paper over again for the millionth time, wondering if there’s more to it you’re just not seeing. “I just… I want to believe she just wants to see him.”

“I see her around Iki Town on occasion. I try to direct Guzma to train elsewhere when I’ve seen her.” He thinks. “After everything that’s happened, I believe he should come to them when he feels it’s right.”

“But his dad-”

“It may never feel right.”

“But if we tell him, will he go just to…” You lose track of your thought, everything tangling in your mind. “When his dad came to my house, Guzma threatened to kill him.” You shiver at the memory. “I thought he might do it right then and there.”

Hala puts his hand on your shoulder. “He’s doing better these days. I think you’ve seen that.”

“But what if it happens again?”

“We’ll deal with it if it happens. We all will.”

Professor Kukui calls, “It’s about time to begin the matches, everyone!”

You push the note back into your bag, crumpling it a little in the process. “Are you alright?” Hala asks.

You take a deep breath. “I think so.” You start to head off to the Champion’s room, waving goodbye to him, hoping the sick feeling in your stomach will go away.

 

The next few days pass by peacefully. Guzma’s out more often, eager to train his newly evolved buddy. You check your porch carefully every time you come home, hoping you won’t see another note, or have him see one before you get ahold of it.

A week after you found the note, you come home from the League to find another envelope in your door. Your hands tremble a little as you take it. Why does this make you feel so apprehensive? The message is similar to the one before, just a little more desperate.

As you consider it, you feel someone behind you. Before you can move, Guzma’s got his arms wrapped around your waist. “Whatcha doin’ out here?” he asks.

You press the note to your chest, hoping he didn’t see what it said. “Just got home.”

“You’ve been standing here since I came up,” he says, putting his head on your shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Letter from my mom,” you lie, hoping he won’t catch it.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He’s noticed you’re anxious. Shit.

“Fine.” You don’t know what to say – you don’t want to make up something about your family just to throw him off…

“Y’sure?”

You unlock and open your front door. “Yeah. It’s nothing.”

“ _It’s_ nothing?” When did he start being perceptive? You could kick yourself.

“Yeah, it is. Don’t worry about it.” You try to pull away from him.

He turns you so you’re facing him. “You can tell me if you’re upset with me.”

“I’m not.” You raise your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. “I promise, I’m not.”

“Well, let me know if you need to talk.”

“I will.” You wheel around and head inside, taking the note with you into your room so you can tuck it out of the way and find something more comfortable to wear.

 

The next note comes five days later. It’s less friendly this time, worded in frustration. You crumple it up and throw it away before Guzma comes over.

He still notices you’re not in a good mood. “What’s up with you lately?”

“Nothing.” You try to turn back to your book. With his arm slung over your shoulder, it’s easy for him to pull it out of your hands and set it aside. “Hey!”

“Okay, seriously, what’s wrong?” He’s even putting down his video game.

“Why are you making it such a big deal?”

He stares down at you. “You’ve been so tense the last few days. This isn’t like you.” He rubs your arm. “So what’s up?” You bite your lip. “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“Well, you’re not!” you burst out. He looks stung, pulling away from you. “I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I just… I don’t know if I should…” You trail off.

“Should what?” You get up and head for your room. He gets up after you, saying, “You’re hidin’ somethin’ from me, aren’t you?”

“Give me a minute.” You enter your room and pull the first two letters out of the drawer you tossed them in, not wanting to think about them but not sure if you should let them go. After thinking about it for a moment, you go to the kitchen and grab today’s out of the trash.

Guzma looks pissed when you come back into the living room. “What’s going on?”

Not knowing what else to do, you hand him the letters. He reads the first one fast, stops, reads it again, moves to the next, reads it a few times too. He barely glances over the last one before smashing the papers into a ball in his hands. You fold your arms over your chest, hugging yourself, as he tugs at the paper, starting to rip it. “How long’s she been givin’ you these?”

“A couple weeks.”

“Just a couple weeks?”

“Those are all of them.” You take the paper from his hands and get out the most recent one. “This one’s from today.”

He glares at it before tearing it away from you again. “Let me know if you get any more.” He unballs the other papers and starts to shred them before heading to the kitchen. You follow him, watching as he angrily throws them in your garbage can. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You lean against the doorframe. “I didn’t want you – I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to make you angry.” You can see it in his posture, his movements, the look in his eyes – he’s furious.

He bends over the sink and turns on the faucet, splashing water over his face, before taking a few deep breaths. “It’s not you I’m mad at,” he says, looking up into your eyes. You nod, breaking his gaze. He wipes his face before he comes over to you, taking your chin in his hand and making you look up at him. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I know.”

“You’re scared.”

You know you can’t lie to him. “A little.”

“I’m not gonna –” He stops himself, taking another deep breath. “I can say I won’t hurt you ‘til I’m blue in the face and you won’t believe me.” He lets go of you and passes you, leaving the room.

“That’s not what I’m scared of,” you tell him.

He barely turns his head to talk to you. “You always get scared when I get pissed.”

“I don’t.” You follow him back into the living room. He won’t look at you. “Okay, the first few times after – after that night, I did, yeah, but – but not now.”

“Then why are you freaked out?” He’s quiet. It’s such a change from his usual loud anger you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“Because I’m worried you’ll go see her, and she’ll tell your dad, and something’ll happen again, and –”

“You’re scared I’m gonna try to hit you again.” He stands in front of the coffee table; he had been bending to get his game, but now he seems frozen in place.

“No!” You touch his shoulder, almost expecting him to snap at you for it. “I mean, yeah, sometimes I remember that night and I get a little nervous.” He starts to say something but you talk over him. “But I’m more worried about you. You’ve been doing so well lately – and if you see your dad –”

He finally looks at you. “I won’t kill him.” He sucks in another breath. “But I don’t think I can promise anything else right now.”

You move behind him and rub his shoulders. Ever so slowly, he relaxes into your touch. “Don’t see her. Please.”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” You manage to guide him over to the couch, hands moving down to his back.

“She’s my mom,” he says, all of his conflicted feelings leaking out into his voice. “What’m I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if he’s hurting her?” He tightens up under your hands.

You hug him, pressing your cheek against his back. “I – I don’t know.” He’s starting to shake. You wish you could reassure him. “Has he hurt her before?”

He leans back a little. “I don’t think so.” He grips your wrist. “But if I’m not there –”

“Don’t.” You hold him tighter. “Please, please don’t go there.”

For a while the two of you fall silent. The tension leaves him slowly. He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder. “I told you – after that night, I told you I wouldn’t say sorry until I knew I wouldn’t do it again.”

“I remember.”

“I – I still don’t think I can say it.” He holds your wrists loosely. “Just thinking about him makes me so mad.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

You move so you can look at him properly. “Guzma, it’s been, what, a couple months?” He barely nods. “This isn’t something you can just fix. It’s gonna take time.”

“Why should it?” He balls his hands into fists. “Why can’t I just – drop it?”

You put your hands over his. “It’s not that easy. I wish it was, but it’s not.”

“What do you know?” he spits out, voice full of venom. He realizes what he just said and starts to apologize.

You take a deep breath yourself and look up at him. “Can I tell you why I moved to Unova with my mom?”

“I thought you said you were from Johto.”

“Originally, yeah.” You look down at his fists curled up in his lap, under your hands. “We lived there when I was a kid. Then my parents got divorced.” You can feel his eyes on you as you slip your thumbs under his fingers, trying to get him to loosen up. “My dad just – he basically got fed up and left, as far as I knew. He’d send me letters and call me on occasion, but that was it.”

“Oh.”

“Then Mom got a job as a gym trainer in Unova – they needed people to help with a new Fairy-type gym and she was an expert, so we moved.”

“What about your dad?”

“He still calls sometimes.” You can feel yourself beginning to shake – you don’t tell this story often and you don’t like telling it. “Mom told me when I got older that he’d run off with a younger woman.”

Guzma uncurls his fists and takes hold of your hands. “I – I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “I was so angry at him for years. He broke my mom’s heart and left me just because he found someone younger and cuter.” You hold on to him tight. “And I still get mad sometimes. I can’t help it.”

“I think you have a pretty good reason to be pissed.”

“So do you.” You run your thumb over the back of his hand. “But – over time – it starts hurting less. Sometimes I wish I could just rip it out and forget about him and be done with it, but that’s not what happens.” You look up at him. “You just – you need time. And you’re working on it so hard – that day you evolved your Dewpider was so good.”

“I had one good day,” he says, bitter.

“You’ll have more.” You lean in and hug him. “It’s not always gonna be like this. And you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. But I don’t think seeing them will help.”

He puts his arms around you. “Okay.” He pulls you in tight and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

You bury your face in his chest. “It’s okay.” You wish you could stay like this forever sometimes, warm in his embrace. But eventually it’s time to make dinner, and then time for him to head back to Hala’s. You watch him go – he looks back at you every once in a while – until he’s out of sight. With a sigh, you let out Arcanine and let her curl up on the lower half of the bed, hoping he really listened to you.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be edited later. Not totally sure I'm happy with it. But oh well.
> 
> Warnings for - well, there's no actual violence in this chapter, but there's results from off-screen violence. And a lot of negativity/self-hatred.

Guzma’s pensive the next morning, feeling not really there, moving through the motions sloppily when you practice tai chi as if he’s not really paying attention. Hala tries to give him a gentle scolding, but even that doesn’t distract him from his far-away thoughts. When you’re done, you put your hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

He shrugs away from you. “I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?”

“A lot of stuff.” He looks at you for a moment. “I need a little time to myself, okay?”

You move to hug him, but he’s already gazing off into the distance again, and you’re not sure jarring him out of this state will do anything helpful. You stick your hands in your pockets and say, “Let me know if you need help?” He nods and wanders off. You watch him until he’s out of sight, wondering what’s going through his mind.

When you get home that afternoon, he doesn’t come over. You tell yourself he’s probably just training by himself again, but it doesn’t ease the anxiety that’s starting to settle over you. Trying to keep from stressing out, you start a thorough cleaning of the house, getting Decidueye to blow dust out of corners and hard-to-reach spots and having Lanturn spray somewhat controlled blasts of water onto the floor to make mopping a little easier.

It’s late when you get a text from Hau. _Grandpa says come to the Pokémon Center near Iki Town, now._

Oh no. The worst ideas begin to cross your mind. As you get to your feet and head for the door, you text back, _What’s up?_

_Something about Guzma?_ You toss the Dex in your bag and barely remember to lock the door before you start running.

Before you even get there, you see something tall, grimy off-white – almost yellow in the light shining from the Pokémon Center - and hunched near the door, chittering in a threatening way at anyone who passes by. You slow down, out of breath, as you recognize Guzma’s Golisopod, clearly upset, in a fighting stance. He growls at you when you approach. You close your eyes for a moment and steel yourself before you look straight into his eyes and reach up to pat him on the head. He looks at you again, recognizing you this time, and chatters again, trying to tell you something. You give him a Pokébean and head for the door.

You walk up to the desk, asking, “Is Hala here?”

The nurse says, “He’s visiting with a patient right now.”

Your heart’s hammering in your chest and it’s not just because of the sprint you just came out of. “Can I see them?”

“Well, it’s past visiting hours, and we’ve already made an exception for him…” She looks unsure. “I don’t think it’ll be much longer now.”

You take out your Dex and call Hala. He barely gets out a hello before you ask, “What the hell happened?”

He must be covering the receiver; you hear muffled talk with “the patient” – you’re pretty sure you know who it is. You hear what sounds like hinges creaking. When he finally moves his hand, he says, “Guzma doesn’t want to see you.”

“What?”

“I apologize. I thought having you here would help, but –”

“It’s okay. What happened?”

“He saw his parents.”

You find a seat. “I was afraid of that.”

He covers the receiver again to speak with Guzma. When he comes back, he says, “The damage isn’t severe. He should hopefully recover in a few weeks.”

Your eyes go wide. “ _What?_ ”

“Bone bruises, possibly a microfracture or two. It’ll take time but no permanent damage.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. “I guess that’s good.”

“Just wait for us for now.” He lowers his voice. “Perhaps he’ll feel better then.”

“Okay. Just – just take care of him.”

“I will.” The end-of-conversation tone rings in your ear. You put the Dex up and stare around, wondering what to do – you feel restless, like you can’t just sit here. Eventually you end up outside with Golisopod, trying to dust him off and clean him up a little – it looks like he was rolling in the dirt – and distracting him so people can pass by without worrying.

When they finally come out, Guzma takes one look at you before looking away, checking over Golisopod. His left eye is nearly swollen shut, the skin around his eye and on his cheek red and puffy. His left arm’s in a sling, and he gives a little hiss of pain if he breathes too deep. He pats Golisopod with his good arm. “Bud, you didn’t have to stand guard. I was fine.” Golisopod chitters at him. “This is a good place. Don’t scare people.”

“Guzma?” you say. He refuses to even look at you. “Are you –”

His good eye narrows. “No.” He gets out Golisopod’s ball. “I want to go home.” Hala gives you an apologetic look as Guzma puts Golisopod away.

“Can we –”

“Going. Home.” He bumps your shoulder as he passes with his bad arm, stopping to shudder before stomping off. Hala waves to you before following him.

 

Guzma doesn’t come to tai chi the next morning. “He needs his rest,” Hala explains. “And he won’t be able to do much physical activity until his arm and his side have healed up.”

“His side?”

“Deep bruising. He’ll probably be stiff for a while.” Hala starts to change positions. “Now, let’s begin.” You try to clear your mind and focus, but everything feels off.

When you get to the Pokémon League, there’s a surprise – Nanu is here instead of Acerola. “She’s caught some kind of cold,” he says after a few awkward greetings. “She tried to make it but the workers at the Aether House are concerned it might be something more serious.”

Olivia asks, “How bad is it?”

“She can’t stop coughing. They don’t want her to overwork herself into a fit.” Nanu shrugs. “I think she’ll be fine in a few days but it never hurts to be safe.”

Kukui steps up. “Alright then. We’ll carry on today as normal – we’ll just have to wait to pass trainers on to the champion today.” He smiles at Nanu. “Unless you’d like to step in and lend a hand?”

Nanu stares at him, expression unchanging. “No.”

Kukui’s unfazed. “It’s probably not fair to switch Elite Four members without warning anyway.” He points to you. “You’ve got one scheduled challenger today, and that should be it.” You nod. “Okay, all, let’s get going!”

You start to head off to your room when you notice that Hala and Nanu are talking quietly. You think for a moment about intruding before realizing it’s probably none of your concern – surely two kahunas have plenty of business to speak about.

When you get home, you change quickly and head to Hala’s place. Hala’s still at the League – there were still a few challengers waiting to face him. You knock on the door and wait a few moments, not hearing anything. You knock again and hear a faint grumble before the door opens.

You can’t help but stare – Guzma’s hair is a total mess, partly covering his eye and the skin around it, which is slowly turning purple and black. He glares back. You gather yourself and ask, “Can we talk?”

He turns and walks away, but without shutting the door. You follow him inside. The small living room is cozy, a couch and chairs in a circle all around the room. There are small statues in the corners and on the mantle, renderings of the tapu. Photos decorate the walls, some depicting sights around Melemele, some of Hala’s family, and others showing Hala with sumo students and later with trial challengers. Guzma sits on the couch, shoving aside a pile of blankets and a pillow. He stares at you, waiting for you to talk.

“Is Hau here?”

He blinks. “Nah, somewhere on Ula’Ula. Kid’s pretty much never here.”

You take a deep breath. “What happened?”

“Whattaya think?” he mutters.

“I mean, did you just run into him or –”

“I saw Mom, she asked me to come back to the house, she said Dad wouldn’t be there, he fuckin’ was.” He looks away. “You happy?”

You sit next to him on the couch. “Your shoulders hurt?” He shakes his head a little bit. You carefully work your arms around his shoulders, hoping you’re not touching any sore spots. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He runs his good hand through his hair. “I deserve it, bein’ that stupid.”

“Don’t say that,” you tell him.

“It was fuckin’ stupid!” he says, voice loud and angry. “You told me not to go, Hala told me not to go, and I fuckin’ went.”

“You wanted to see your mom. That’s not stupid.”

“When my parents are the way they are? Yeah, it’s fuckin’ dumb.”

“Stop it!” You squeeze him as if that’ll get him to shut up. “You’re not stupid.”

“I just do stupid shit all the time.”

“No, you don’t. Stop it.” You look at him. Tears are welling up in his good eye, one already streaking down from his bad eye. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear you say shit like that?”

He’s still staring at the wall. “Why the hell are you with a loser like me?” He reaches up with his unhurt arm to brush the tears roughly out of his good eye.

“Fucking stop.”

He won’t shut up. “You deserve so much better. I don’t know why the fuck you put up with my bullshit.”

You touch his chin, trying to keep your hand away from the swollen skin on his cheek, and turn his head so he’s looking at you. “Who’s talking right now? You, or your dad?”

“He’s right.” He’s stopped trying to hide that he’s crying. “He’s fuckin’ right.”

“No, he fucking isn’t.” You can feel the heat of tears gathering in the corners of your own eyes. “Why the hell would you start to listen to him now?”

“Every time I try something, I just end up right back fucking here.” He waves vaguely around the room. “Not – not here, I mean, I’m always right back where I started and it never changes and –”

“This time is different.” You have to make him see. Why can’t he see? “You’ve been doing so much. You’ve been trying so hard. You made a mistake. So what? Keep trying.”

“Easy for you to say.” He stares down at his hurt arm. “You don’t fuck up like me.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know what to do to make you believe me.”

“I’m not worth your time.” He lets out a sob. You can feel his whole body shake – how much does it hurt? “Just – just stop, okay?”

It’s a while before you say anything. You don’t want to give up – you can’t – but he won’t listen, no matter what you do. As you try to think of something to tell him, he starts sobbing more, harder, breath hitching when the deep breaths he’s taking hurt his side. You rub his back as he keeps going – at least he’s not trying to stuff his feelings down again or hide them under his anger.

He slowly calms down, coughing a few times as the last few sobs work their way out of him. You pull yourself away from him and look him over. You have to admit, he’s a pretty sorry sight. “Guzma,” you say, and stop, trying to make sure your words come out the right way. “I want to be with you, and sometimes – sometimes I even think I love you.” He stares at you, good eye wide in disbelief. “But I can’t – I can’t go on like this. I believe in you, but it’s so hard to keep it up when you’re giving up on yourself.” He’s silent, but it looks like he might start crying again. “I know… I know it’s not easy to just turn around and say you like yourself and all that. But can you at least try?”

He looks down. “I don’t know.”

You pat his good hand. “Well, think about it.” You get up. “And let me know when you’ve got an answer.”

It’s so hard to walk away, but it’s too hard to hear him putting himself down. You leave the house and a little piece of your heart behind.

 

The next few days off are miserable. You don’t get any word that Acerola’s back to feeling better, and every day you dread the build-up in the schedule her absence is creating. At first you get Poliwag out and try training her again, but she still hates you, spraying you with water and tackling you until your shins are covered in little bruises from where she’s bonked into you. Eventually you put her up – you could try to get on her good side, but you’d just have to start all over again once you got back to the League.

Without a Pokémon to train, and without Guzma around, you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself. You end up napping throughout the day while trying to read books you’re not terribly interested in. Your Pokémon are happy to be roaming the house again – you feel bad for cooping them up when Guzma’s around. You really should let them out to exercise and play more often.

Five days after Acerola initially getting sick, you get a message from Kukui that she’s doing better and things will start back to normal the day after tomorrow. You look at the schedule he sends along with the message and groans. The first two days back will be easy, but then it’s four-match days for a solid week. When will things slow down? Do they ever? How do other Leagues work? You barely remember your own challenge to Johto’s champion and you never even tried Unova’s Elite Four.

You’re startled out of a nap that afternoon by a knock at the door. You know you’re kind of a mess, trying to straighten out your shirt, but you find it hard to care in your drowsy state. When you open the door, it’s Guzma. His shiner looks even worse, all the skin purple and blue. You try to wake yourself up as he shifts around on your porch. “Can we talk?” he asks.

“Come in.” He moves immediately, automatically to your couch, startling Mimikyu when he sags down into the cushions. You watch it give him its version of the hairy eyeball through its mask before hopping down and scuttling off somewhere else. You sit in one of your chairs near the sofa, watching him. He keeps his eyes focused on you. “How long do you have to wear that thing?” you ask, pointing to his sling.

“Probably another week,” he says, annoyed.

“I thought you didn’t break anything.”

“They said I shouldn’t be movin’ it much.” He grimaces down at his arm. “And it hurts like shit when I do. Puttin’ on shirts is hell.” He looks up at the ceiling. “At least I don’t have to put it above my head anymore.”

“Why’d they make you do that?”

“Stop it swellin’.” He turns back to you. “So. What you said the other day.” You nod. “I…” He stops, tries to compose himself. “You’re right. Not hating myself is really hard to do.” You wait for him to continue. “But… I don’t wanna lose you.” His eyes water up as he says, “You’re the best thing in my life right now. Possibly ever.”

You’re touched, but something about it strikes you oddly. “I can’t be the only thing you’re relying on.” He blinks. “I mean, I want to support you, but I can’t be _it._ I’m gonna fuck up. Hell, I fucked up with not telling you about the letters and trying to hide it from you.”

“You were trying to –”

You cut him off. “I fucked up and I’m sorry. But - I can’t be your life support. I just can’t.”

“I think I get it.” He looks down at his hands dangling in his lap. “I mean, there’s Hala.” He thinks a little more. “And Plumes.”

“I’m sure Hau wouldn’t mind being your friend,” you tell him. “He’s pretty happy to make friends with anyone.”

He snorts. “He’s a kid.”

“So?”

He shrugs. “I’m not good with kids.”

“But you’re good with teenagers.”

“Yeah, at encouraging them to be little shits.” He tries to laugh.

“You could try.” You lean towards him. “That’s all I’m asking you to do. Try.”

He looks you in the eyes again. “I will.”

“For yourself. Not just for me.”

He sighs. “I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna get me fixed if I’m not workin’ on it.”

You get up and sit next to him, on his good side, pressing yourself against him. “Thanks.”

A small grin crosses his face as he leans into you. For a while, you’re quiet. Then he asks, “Did you mean it? When you said you love me?”

“Yes.” You take his good hand in yours. His hands are so much bigger than yours.

He pushes his face into your hair. After a few minutes, he mumbles, “Thanks.”

Somehow it’s easy to pass an afternoon just sitting with him, not talking much, not doing anything.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest thing I have ever written, hands down, original or fic. And it's not even done yet. What even is this thing.

When the League starts up again, Acerola is raring to go - it's hard to tell she was sick at all, other than the occasional cough… until you're done with your second challenger. You go to watch her current match – really just checking up on her – and find Olivia's arrived before you. Acerola's trying to hide how tired she is with her enthusiasm, high fiving her Drifblim as her challenger's Hypno goes down, but she's a bit wobbly on her feet. She shakes hands quickly with the challenger before trying to skip over to Olivia, slowing down as she goes. “Wasn't that such a good match?”

“Calm down a little,” Olivia says, smiling and bending down to hug her. “You finished for the day?”

“I suppose so,” Acerola says, annoyed. She walks at a slower pace to the door, but she's still out of breath.

“Kids,” Olivia says once she's left. “Never know their own limits.”

“That's a good thing most of the time,” you answer. “That's how some trainers get so powerful.”

“But not when they're pushing themselves too hard.” Olivia walks to the door. “She's nearly fourteen, but she's still got a lot to learn.”

“Sometimes I feel like I still have a ways to go,” you say, following her.

“True,” Olivia replies. “And given that desert incident, I don't know if you know your limits either.” You stick your tongue out at her. She giggles. “C'mon, champ, you can take a little teasing.”

 

In some ways, it's good that the Elite Four is made of two kahunas and a trial captain – they all have their own duties at home that they're still responsible for, limiting the amount of time in a day the League takes up. Even Kahili has her strict golf training schedule to stick to – as far as you know, golf is her entire life outside the League. You don't have the same obligations as everyone else, so you can stay later to take challenges, but for the most part Kukui and the others respect that being Champion isn't your entire life.

Still, you're taking four people a day now to help catch things up, and even though it sounds like a small number, the battles get so drawn out and intense you're often feeling ready to head home halfway through the third match.

And being at the League longer leaves less time for you to be with Guzma. At least he's still working with Hala, but you're beginning to feel like there's a distance between the two of you when he visits. He doesn't seem happy when you spend time with him.

You were hoping things would get better after your talk with him. Perfect, no, but better. Instead Guzma seems to be running out of steam easier, looking and sounding more tired. “You alright?” you ask him as you hold him, sitting on your couch, head pressed to his shoulder, trying your hardest not to jostle his injured arm.

“Fine,” he answers, sounding miffed.

“You don’t look fine.” He tenses under you, confirming what you’re saying.

He takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “Look, I’m trying – I’m really trying to be positive, okay?”

He doesn’t seem positive. At all. “About what?”

“Me. Like you said.” He sinks back into the couch. “It’s… hard.”

“I’m positive about you. Does that help?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. “Sometimes it does, and some days I can’t even figure out why you would, or why I should.”

“There’s plenty of reasons.” You look up at him. “You need me to tell you again?”

“No.” He pauses. “I mean, it’s nice when you do, but I don’t… really – I don’t believe you.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“No!” His hands clench. “I just – I know you’re trying to make me feel better but you’re just being nice so I don’t feel bad, and then I get guilty for feelin’ bad anyways, and – it’s fuckin’ confusing.”

“Sorry.” You don’t really know what to say to him.

“Sorry for bringin’ it up.”

“No, you need to tell me when things aren’t working. I don’t wanna do things that just hurt more.” After a few minutes of quiet, you ask, “Is there anything I can do that makes it hurt less?”

A few times he opens his mouth, starting to answer, before snapping shut again. Finally, he says, “This is nice.”

You gently kiss his shoulder. “Yeah, it is.”

He’s still unhappy when he leaves.

 

After a week, he stands in your doorway, refusing to come in, saying, “I can’t do this.” His sling is off but the bruises around his eye and on his arm are an ugly green with purple mottling them, and he doesn't move his arm or bend much, his side still paining him.

“Can’t do what?” You're worried you know the answer, and it starts to rip at your heart.

“I – I can’t – I can’t _like myself._ ” He runs a hand up his face, through his hair. “And I’ve been fuckin’ tryin’ so don’t even start with that – I try and just, everything in my body starts screamin’ how horrible I am and all the stuff I’ve fucked up.” You hope he’s not going to start tearing at his hair again.

“I just said I needed you to try, okay?” You want to hug him but you’re not sure it’s the best thing to do.

“I am, and it is so fuckin’ _hard._ I don’t think I can keep doin’ it.” He starts to turn. “I should just go. Before I fuck up again and you –”

Now you do hug him. “Don’t. Please.”

“I told you from the start all I’m gonna do is disappoint you.” The dejection in his voice is horrible.

“You’re not disappointing me.” You hold him tighter, as if you could squeeze all this out of him. “I promise, you’re not.”

“But you told me you can’t – and I get why you can’t –” He’s trying to pull away.

“I was being stupid!” you shout, pressing your face into his back. “I was – I didn’t – I was trying to help and I fucked up.” You’re breathing hard, trying not to cry. “I don’t want to lose you.” He stops moving, falling silent. “I meant it when I said I can’t be the only one supporting you. But it doesn’t mean – I don’t want to walk away.”

“You are really good at givin' me mixed messages,” he says quietly.

“I'm not trying to.” You give a little groan, unsure how to say it so he'll understand. “I'm here for you. I promise I am. I – I shouldn't have said I couldn't handle what's going on with you.” He relaxes slightly. “I just can't be the only person you're leaning on. And you've got Hala, that's good. You've got Plumes, you should talk to her more, she misses you. And – and I'm sure you can find other people.” You try to think. “Hell, try calling Nanu sometimes.”

That makes him snort. “Yeah, just tell my fuckin' probation officer I wanna chat.”

You freeze. “Your what?”

“He might as well be.” Guzma tenses up again. You move your arm, trying not to put too much pressure on his bad side. “You know how much shit he had to pull to keep me outta jail?”

This is the first you've heard of it. “What did he do?”

“Won't tell me. Just shows up to wave it in my face every few weeks. But it's not too hard to figure out.” He pulls your arms away and turns around to look you over, folding his own arms over his chest. “Part of it's just bein' a kahuna – his word and Hala's had a lotta influence over my case. And then he's technically still a cop, at least as far as Ula'Ula's concerned, so double that for the police. Plus, he’s been babysittin’ Po Town since we showed up there, sayin’ he’d keep an eye on us, so they probably thought he had shit under control.” He laughs at that. “Like he did shit other than come around and harass us every once in a while.”

“I mean, it sounds to me like he cares.”

“Pff.” He rolls his eyes. “More like he didn’t wanna look bad seeing the asshole he was supposed to be taking care of getting into deep shit.”

You tilt your head. “Do you really think he’d go to the effort of keeping you out of jail if he thought you were just some punk he could squeeze?” He shrugs, silent. “I think he cares. More than he lets on.” You pause. “I mean, he doesn’t let on much to start with.”

“I doubt he wants me to start droppin’ in for tea with Acerola,” he points out.

“It was just a thought.” You lay your hands on his arms, careful to avoid his bruises. “I hear some of the kids in Team Skull are getting jobs and going straight. Maybe you could try talking to them.”

“So they can tell me how bad I fucked up,” he says, eyes narrowing.

“Do you have any idea how much respect they have for you?” you ask.

“May have it. Doesn’t mean I deserve it.”

“Stop it.”

“I know, I know.”

He stares down at you, a little pissed but not angry or upset like he was earlier. You move your hands to his shoulders and ask, “So you’re not leaving?”

He takes your face in his hands and says, “I guess not.” You get on your toes and lean in and up, pausing before your lips meet his. He closes the gap. For a while you’re happy to stand there, happy he’s not leaving, happy he’s calmed down. Eventually, though, your feet get tired – you break away and try to pull him into the house. He raises an eyebrow as you tug at his arm – he’s big enough that your attempts aren’t having much of an effect. “You want me to come in?”

“Yeah, smart-ass,” you say, giving an extra-hard yank.

He suddenly goes from standing still to actively pulling back, hard enough to pull you into him. He grunts as you smack into his chest and waist. “Watch the side,” he says through gritted teeth.

“That was your fault,” you mutter as you try to get yourself off of him without hurting yourself worse.

You end up on the couch, making out like teenagers, him lifting your shirt to your chest and copping feels of your stomach and breasts as you wrap your legs around his. Your hands slide down his back to his ass and grab tight, pushing his hips against yours, feeling as much of him against you as you can. He’s big enough to practically surround you. You take off your shirt and push your fingers under his, pressing your stomach up against his, leaning into his right side so you don’t touch the bruises on his left.

He sits up to take his shirt off. You follow him up, hands on his chest, desperate for contact. He sags back into the back of the couch; you straddle his lap, grinding against him as you tug at his ear with your teeth. “Missed me?” he asks as you make your way down the side of his neck.

“Working overtime sucks.” You stop and ask, “Can I bite you?”

“Go right ahead.”

“But your other bruises –”

“This one I’ll be happy to feel.” He winces when you initially bite him, but loosens up as you lick and suck the area. You bite him a couple more times before he pulls your head away from his neck, looking at you. “Gettin’ possessive, are we?”

You look him in the eye. “I want you to remember that I’m here for you.”

He smiles before he nips at your lower lip.

You get off of him briefly to take your shorts off and help him out of his pants and boxers. For a moment you just look him over, his legs spread, his cock sticking out, the bruises decorating his side and his eye, the piercings shining bright on his chest. Then you sink to your knees in front of him, resting your hands on his thighs. You remember the first time he ate you out and turn to his knee, licking a stripe up to his groin, making him groan as you stop just short of his balls. You run your fingers over the line you just marked and lick him again, coming even closer to his dick. He mumbles, “Fucking shit, what are you trying to do to me?” when you turn to his other leg and start trailing kisses up his thigh.

“What you do to me,” you reply as you turn back to his knee.

Finally you turn to his dick, already starting to leak with precum. You wrap your hand around it loosely and lift it up, mouthing his balls. He’s got a tight hold on the couch cushions, and his fingers clench harder as you ignore his cock, kissing his balls, sucking one into your mouth. “You’re gonna fucking kill me – fuck,” he says as you start over again.

You decide to be merciful and lick his cock from balls to tip, getting some of his precum on your cheek and tongue. Before you sink down on him, though, he says, “Stop.”

You pull back and blink up at him. “So you just want me to keep torturing you, is what you’re saying.”

“Fuck no, god, I need you on me, but –” He grabs your shoulders and pulls you up. He helps you settle on the couch so your head is over his lap while you lie on the cushions. His hand runs from your head, through your hair to your back, moaning as you lick a few more stripes up his cock before you finally take his head into your mouth. While you twirl your tongue around his head and suck, he leans over, his fingers finding their way under your panties, squeezing one ass cheek and pulling it away so you can feel air hitting your wet pussy.  You sigh around his cock as he finds his way to your asshole, running his fingers around and over a few times before diving lower.  He waits for you to go down on him before he pushes his fingers inside your pussy.  It’s more of a tease than anything – from this position he can’t get his fingers in very far – but it feels nice to feel him running his fingertips over your labia and diving in and out of you as you bob up and down on his dick.

You time your head’s motions with your hand pumping him up and down, and he falls into a kind of rhythm with his fingers inside you, halting briefly to say “Fucking shit,” or another swearword as you keep working him.  It’s not too long before he says, “Shit – I’m gonna come – shit, shit.” You continue to go down on him, trying to make yourself go a little deeper on him. His words become incoherent as he thrusts his hips up, driving himself deeper into your mouth, spurting into your throat. You do your best to stay on him, trying to swallow his seed as he finishes, some of it escaping down through your mouth to land on his cock.  He lets you keep bobbing on him until he starts to go soft, pulling his cock away – the head runs along the inside of your cheek and comes out with a soft _pop_.

“You coulda stopped,” he says, slightly out of breath, as you sit up.

“I could’ve,” you agree, wiping your chin with your arm before you reach for a tissue.

“So how do you want me to finish you off?” he asks as you wipe him down.

You tilt your head as you look up at him. “How long would it take you to be ready for another round?”

His eyes go wide. “Uh, twenty minutes, maybe half an hour?”

“Then I want to ride you.” You straddle his lap again, feeling his strong thighs under yours.

He tries to smile. “You’re gonna have to wait it out.”

“So?” You put your hands on his shoulders. “You’ve got fingers and a nice tongue. Think you can keep me occupied until then.”

He looks you in the eye. “You sure you want to wait?”

“It’s not fair I’m the only one who gets multiple orgasms,” you tell him as you guide his hand to your hip. “Now come on, help a girl out, here.”

He slowly fingers you as you wait for him to get ready again, more exploring you than trying to pleasure you – his middle finger manages to push up into a higher spot than you thought he could reach, past your g-spot, almost to your cervix, that feels so good. It takes him effort, though, and he can only manage with the one finger and his hand contorted to try to fit it deep enough inside. Before long he’s back to normal fingering, occasionally pressing into your g-spot, more stretching and prepping you to take him than working on an orgasm. You’re okay with that – you want to come on his dick, feeling it inside you. His fingers are nice but the feeling of his cock inside you is just different, more fulfilling in a way.  He thumbs your clit a few times, but you stop him before you can orgasm, letting the feelings build and then ebb away – he was really onto something with that edging stuff. It’s hard to make yourself stop him, but you manage.

Finally you feel him start to stiffen under you. “Hold up,” you say, getting off him, taking off your underwear quickly before stumbling to the bedroom, legs already feeling wobbly from the position and the fucking. When you make your way back with a condom, he’s sucking the fingers that were just inside you.

“You taste good,” he sighs as you pull the condom out of its packaging and take hold of his dick. “Wanna try?” You look up, and he presses his index finger to your mouth. You open your lips and let him slip his finger in, gently sucking on it and wrapping your tongue around it. You can feel him twitch in your hand. You only stop when he pulls away, turning your attention back to his dick.

He watches you as you roll the condom onto him. When you’re done, you climb onto his lap and kiss him, still tasting yourself on his lips. It doesn’t take long for him to start shifting under you, feeling his cock pressing into your labia as he lifts his hips.  You pull away from him and push down on his shoulders, willing him to relax. When he stops, you take his face in your hands and say, “I love you.” He starts to reply before you cut him off. “I’m with you, I don’t want you to say it just as a spur-of-the-moment middle-of-sex thing, but – but I need you to know, and I’ve already told you.” You press your forehead to his and say softly again, “I love you.”

You can hear his ragged breathing in your ear as you reach down and hold his cock, angling it so the tip presses between your lips. He lets out a sigh as you push down onto him, nearly taking his whole length on the first try. You groan as you feel him deep inside you, filling you. You wiggle your hips back and forth, trying to completely take him. He’s the one to moan when you lift up and come back down again.

It’s a slow but steady rhythm at first, you trying to establish a pace as you ride him, enjoying the feeling of him all the way inside you before you pull up again. His hands run all of your body, up and down your arms, over your breasts and stomach before sliding up your sides and then down your back. When you start to speed up, he grunts and holds you tighter. You can feel his dick throb and twitch when you press yourself against him and whisper, “I love you,” in his ear again. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close – you can’t move as much like this but you enjoy the closeness, his skin and sweat against yours.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for you to get tired – you’re not used to doing this and your legs are already burning from kneeling over him for so long. He notices as you slow down and moves his hands to your ass, alternating between thrusting his own hips and guiding you up and down on top of him. He speeds up and starts pushing in hard, mumbling, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he starts to get close. You reach down and rub your clit as he keeps going, trying to reach your own release.

He gives one final thrust deep inside and groans as he comes. You resume fucking him now that he’s reached his limit, pushing up and down on him as he continues to orgasm. You only stop when he’s clearly done, sinking back into the couch, starting to go limp inside you. After a minute he brushes your hand aside and rubs your clit, harder and rougher. It only takes a couple minutes to get you writhing and clenching, and just a little more to send you over the edge. You buck your hips against his hand, crying out at how strong it is, riding the waves of it on his hips. You sag against him when you’re finally done, moaning into his chest, letting him slip out of you.

He gently lays you down on your side, lying beside you, one arm slung over your waist, the other hand reaching up to cup your chin. He makes you look at him. “Can I tell you now?” he asks. You nod and hold him tight as he says, “I love you.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is slowly coming to a close, I think. There's still a few more chapters to go, but we're hitting the home stretch here. Hopefully that's not too disappointing.
> 
> I do have plans for other fics. There'll be another one that's Guzma/reader (with a few added twists I hope people will be happy about). And I've started another one called The Truth in Fairytales that doesn't involve the reader or heavy romance at all; it's still very Guzma-centric. And there'll probably be a few side-fics to this one, about different things that just didn't quite fit into the story well enough to put them in the main plot. So at least there's more to look forward to!

  _I have the day after tomorrow off_

_sweet_

_Wanna try the Battle Tree again?_

_u mean for the 1st time_

_If you want to get all technical about it :P_

_sure_

_Awesome!_

_i have nothing better to do_

_Oh. Thanks._

_anything for u_

_You don’t have to go_

_i want to_

_You literally just said it’s because you have nothing better to do._

_heard of jokes?_

_You suck at jokes_

_i am the best joker thank u very much, plumes’ll back me up_

_Well then you suck at text jokes_

_tone n text is hard_

_True._

_besides i no what u suck at :O_

_… Was that an insult or a sex joke?_

_Either way I’m not impressed_

_ok yeah text jokes = bad_

_Good. Stop digging the hole deeper._

_what’d i do?!_

_Just quit while you’re ahead_

_women, jeez_

_You’re going to start losing privileges soon_

_like what, mom?_

_Ew :P_

_Privileges like using my 3DS for the new Ace Attorney games_

_i’ll live_

_Or sex._

_HEY NO NOT FAIR_

_Then maybe think before you start turning me off again_

_i’m done i swear_

_Good. Day after tomorrow?_

_u no i’m coming over tomorrow 2 rite_

_I’m trying to confirm plans, dingus._

_oh, yeah, day after tomorrow, ok_

_Good. See ya_

_< 3 u_

_Love you too_

It’s nice to be able to hear and say that now, even when it’s just a conversation ender.

 

The next day, you head to the League with two challengers to face, trying to keep your spirits up even though you’re getting really tired of the constant intense battles. You wonder if it’s starting to wear on your team – they don’t seem to be faltering, but they’ve begun to just laze around when you let them out around the house instead of playing and play-fighting the way they used to. Arcanine’s less energetic when you let her out at the beach in the mornings. Hopefully you’re just worrying too much.

The first battle isn’t that bad, at least – you have three Pokemon still standing, even though Decidueye’s down to his last bit of health. You return to the back rooms for healing and a little break before you head out again.

You’re happily surprised when Plumeria walks in. She’s changed her look a bit – instead of the skull ponytail holders she’s been sporting, she has on a blue bandana with flame emblems on it, and her new pants match it. She smirks at you as she tosses her first Pokeball up and down. “You ready for me, Champ?”

“Hell yeah,” you say, smiling, hoping Kukui won’t get mad you swore. He’s watching from the sidelines along with a few other people who hang around this place, the ones who come to observe even when the matches aren’t that exciting. If Plumeria’s been training as hard as she says she’s been, this one should be an event.

First she tosses out a Gengar. You send in Kadabra. It’s a risk – they both get each other to low health with one hit. Her Gengar manages to move just slightly faster on the next round and take Kadabra out with another Shadow Ball. You throw out Arcanine and bring Gengar down with a nice Crunch. She retaliates with Toxapex, Liquidation nearly KOing her in one hit. You swear and switch her out for Lanturn. Toxapex gets in a Poison Jab and poisons her before she slams it with Discharge. It uses Recover to heal; you throw out Discharge again. This time Plumeria switches it out with a Lurantis – a Lurantis? Not another Poison Pokémon?

You switch out for Arcanine. Plumeria throws out Toxapex again. Trying a different tack, you take out Hariyama; at least he’s not weak to anything Toxapex can try, you think. Toxapex manages to poison Hariyama with Poison Jab as well before it tosses Toxapex with Close Combat. It doesn’t do nearly as much damage as you hoped – shit, are Toxapex strong to Fighting moves? Plumeria pulls out Toxapex and switches for Crobat. You bite your lip; you hope you can get a move in first. You try, but Crobat’s faster, flying up in the air and out of Hariyama’s range. You switch to Lanturn. She takes the hit from Fly but barely stays up, managing to get in a good Discharge before her poison wipes her out.

Taking another risk, you throw out Arcanine and manage to bring down Crobat with a Flamethrower. She immediately brings out Toxapex and KOs Arcanine with another Liquidation. Trying not to swear, you bring out Decidueye. He throws out a Leaf Blade and brings Toxapex down to its (metaphorical) knees, but it gets back up again with Recover. She switches out for Lurantis again. You use Pluck, Decidueye’s weakest move, managing to do a good amount of damage with Lurantis’s weakness. Lurantis counters with Payback, nearly one-hit KOing Decidueye. You try another Pluck but it doesn’t bring the mantis down, so it takes out Decidueye with another Payback.

Next you bring out Mimikyu. It Plays Rough with Lurantis, managing to take it out. Now Plumeria pulls out her Salazzle, quickly performing the Poison Z-Move stance to get Salazzle to use Acid Downpour. It’s enough to bring Mimikyu to low health, even without being weak to it. Mimikyu throws out a quick Shadow Claw, but gets KO’d with a strong Flamethrower hit.

Shit. You’re down to Hariyama. You get both anxious and elated as you realize you won’t win this one – she still has three Pokemon. All you can do is throw out Close Combat after Salazzle starts with a Dragon Pulse. It throws out a Flamethrower of its own; you command Hariyama to Endure. It manages to barely survive the Sludge Bomb thrown at it before trying another Close Combat; it’s nowhere near enough to bring Salazzle down. With a victorious shout from Plumeria, Salazzle takes Hariyama out with another Dragon Pulse.

Plumeria runs up and hugs her Salazzle around the neck, screaming, “We did it! We won!” Once you’ve put your Pokémon up, you sprint over and join in, shouting in delight as the others around the room stand still, stunned. You look up and realize no one seemed to have expected her to win – or for you to be so happy about it. For a moment it pisses you off – Plumeria’s a great trainer, you always knew she was. But the moment’s too happy for you to stay angry long.

Eventually Professor Kukui comes up, smiling, and breaks up the group hug, having the two of you shake hands before he shakes Plumeria’s. “Aue, great match! Hang tight for a bit,” he says, “we’ve got to get everyone together for this.”

You wait together, talking quietly as the Elite Four slowly gather in the room after their current matches are finished. “How hard have you been training?” you ask. “I mean, I expected a great battle, but – holy shit, you still had one you didn’t even use.”

She smiles. “I’ve been goin’ at it pretty hard. Trashed everyone I came across, and if we didn’t win, I trained ‘til I beat ‘em and got my money back.”

“Ouch.” Knowing her, that was a lot of ass-whooping.

“You doin’ your make-up fancier now?” she asks, pointing at your blended eye-shadow and wings.

“Trying.” You fight the impulse to touch your eye now she’s pointed it out – sometimes it’s so hard not to smear it.

“Guzma doing okay?” she asks next. “He texts me but he never tells me anything.”

“He ran into his dad.”

“Shit.” She frowns. “What happened?”

“Bruises, lots of ‘em.” You remember back to how he looked a week and a half ago. At least they’re mostly faded now. “He won’t really tell me more of what happened, but I think he’s getting better.”

“I hope he is.”

Soon everyone’s here. The Elite Four pass Plumeria down the line, shaking her hand and congratulating her, until she reaches you and Kukui, shaking hands again for a camera; there’s always a tape going during the Champion matches, but now there’s one up close and personal for the ceremony. Kukui turns her around to face it as he announces, “Alola has a new Champion today!” You pat her back as she grins awkwardly at the camera, not used to the direct attention. Kukui makes a little speech before recording her team in the Hall of Records and ending the short ceremony with a quick round of applause. The match and the ceremony will be replayed for audiences all over Alola, possibly all over the world for a few days.

Once everything’s over and the camera’s off, Plumeria says, “Hey, Kukui.”

“What’s up?”

Plumes nudges you with her elbow. “So someone told me this gig comes with a little money.” Kukui nods. “See, though, I already got plenty of money from how much I’ve been battling lately.” You turn and blink at her as she continues. “I want it to go to Po Town.”

Now Kukui’s the one to give her a double take. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“I wanna fix it up. Make it nice again.” She shrugs. “Somewhere people can live again. Decent.”

Kukui folds his arms, thinking. “It’s a nice idea, but we don’t exactly have that much money right now…”

“Anything helps.” Plumes readjusts her bandana. “I mean, it’s a start. Maybe if people hear the League’s pitchin’ in, they’ll wanna help too.” She stops and looks up at Kukui. “I don’t want it to be a thing where rich people just take over and move in again, though. I need a place for my siblings to stay.”

“Your… siblings?”

“What used to be Team Skull.” Plumes crosses her arms as she stares him in the face. “They aren’t gettin’ up to no good anymore. They need a place to stay that’s not a garbage heap.”

“Hm.” Kukui and Plumes seem to be having a staring contest, neither willing to look away. “You’re sure they won’t start up their harassment and stealing again?”

Plumes nods. “They’ll even help rebuild. They want stuff to do. I’ve been thinkin’ about this for weeks with them. We want to make somethin’ better out of ourselves.”

Kukui smiles. “Well, being determined enough to become Champion is a good start. We’ll see what we can do.”

You give her a quick hug. “It’s an awesome idea. You sure you don’t need the money, though?”

“Like I said, I’ve got plenty.” She looks a little unsure, but she still grins at you. “We can get help from other places, too.”

“Where?” You think you have an idea, but you want her to say it.

“I’ve been talking with Gladion and Wicke. They think it’ll be great for PR if they throw some money in here and there.” She smiles. “You gotta remember, he’s still my little brother in a way too.”

“That’s great!” You frown as you remember how Guzma felt about it when you brought it up.

Plumes sees your face. “What’s up?”

You try to rearrange your face. “Nothing.” Guzma’s said plenty of times before he’s done with Team Skull. It’s not his job anymore to worry who supports them and what happens with them. If this works out – which it hopefully will – it’s good for the city and for the kids.

“You sure?”

You hug her again. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Kukui turns to the two of you. “While we have you both here, it’s probably a good idea to go over your duties and talk about what’s coming up next.”

You groan. “Can’t we just stick with the fun bits?”

“Gotta take care of business sometime!”

 

Guzma’s waiting on your porch with Golisopod when you get home. He gets up and starts to say something about how late you are when you grab him and kiss him hard. “Somethin’ good happen?” he asks.

“I have tomorrow off,” you tell him with a grin. “We can do the Battle Tree early!”

“Okay, what’s up?”

You give him the news. He whoops and picks you up, spinning you around and holding you close. You laugh and get up on your toes to kiss him again when he sets you back on the ground. He pulls away quickly, giving you a hard look. “You didn’t throw it for her, did ya?”

“Fuck no!” You’re pissed that he even considered it.

“I just wanted to make sure.” He bends and kisses you again before pulling back, winking, and saying, “I think you deserve a reward for all your hard work.”

It’s not long before you’re in bed, dress pulled up around your waist, moaning with your fingers in Guzma’s hair as he kneels with his head between your legs. You stop for a minute to laugh. “I can’t believe we’re celebrating the fact that I lost.”

Guzma lifts his head up just enough to speak; you can still feel his breath on your lips. “It’s what you wanted, right?”

You smile down at him. “Yeah, it is.”

“Then it’s worth celebratin’.” He runs his fingertip around your entrance before pushing in. You lay back and let him work his magic. He makes you come twice before he gets up on the bed with you and holds you, lips against your temple. “Seriously, though, if this means more time together, I’m happy.”

“Me too.” You run your hand down his arm. “I could get used to more time doing this.” You wrap your bare legs around his waist. “A lot more time doing this.”

He grins as he rolls the both of you so you’re on your back and he’s laying over you. “I definitely want to,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again, forehead pressed to yours.

At some point, you manage to stop holding him and make dinner. He sends a quick text after he’s done cleaning the dishes and picks you up, carrying you back to the bedroom. “Don’t you need to leave soon?” you ask reluctantly as he starts kissing your neck again.

“Nope.” He licks from the hollow of your throat up to your jawline. “Told Hala I’m staying the night.”

You hold him tight. “Good.” It’s so nice to feel him holding you as you drift off to sleep, unburdened by the thought of the morning.


	22. Chapter 22

When the alarm rings, you’re too comfortable to want to get up. The only reason you move is because the stupid thing won’t turn off by itself, and it’s hard to reach it when Guzma doesn’t want to let go of you.

You turn to him and kiss his forehead, easy to reach for once. “Time to get up,” you tell him as you brush his hair out of his face. God, he’s cute.

He pulls you closer and buries his face in your chest. “No.”

“Seriously.”

“I thought you were done with the Champion shit.”

“Doesn’t mean I wanna miss tai chi.”

“Bleh.”

“You’re articulate in the morning.”

“Go back to sleep,” he begs.

You get an idea. “Stop crushing me and I’ll give you a treat.” He loosens his grip on you. “Okay, I meant I want you to actually let go of me.”

“But you’re so soft and warm.”

You giggle. “I bet you’ll like this better.” With a groan he pulls his arms back and rolls so he’s on his back. Perfect. You sink down and kiss his chest. He rests his hands behind his head as you move down to his waist.

“I’m a fan of this,” he admits as you kiss the tip of his cock. He jerks a bit when you give his head a lick, then take him into your mouth. “Okay, yeah, I really like this.” You run one hand over his hip to his ass, then up his chest, flicking at a piercing. “Fuck,” he mumbles as you get your hand in rhythm with your mouth. He’s quieter than usual. You feel one hand lightly land on your head, fingertips scratching at your scalp, tangling in your hair as you keep going down on him. It doesn’t take long for him to finish; you sit still as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth. When he’s completely done and you’re moving off him, wiping your mouth, he says, “That is the way to wake up.” He pulls you up to sit on his stomach, kissing you. “Return the favor?” he asks, hand on your hip.

“Not right now,” you tell him, somehow resisting the urge to jump on his face. You get up and start to get dressed, ignoring how wet you feel just from getting him off. With a groan, he forces himself out of bed and throws on yesterday’s clothes. “If this is gonna be a thing, you should keep a few extra shirts over here or something.”

He hugs you around the waist from behind and says, “I mean, we could make this a… a permanent thing again.”

You stiffen, thinking about it. “You think you’re ready for that?”

“Think I’m close.” He holds you tighter, face buried in your hair, breathing you in. “I miss you when I’m not here.”

You turn awkwardly, getting your shirt tangled in his arms, so you can embrace him too. “So do I.” You pat his back. “C’mon, let’s go. You still have to do your morning with Hala.”

“I know.” Instead of completely letting go, he hooks an arm around your shoulder, insisting on staying with you as you put on your shoes and half-tumble out the front door. His Ariados skitters alongside your Arcanine as you make your way down to the beach.

 Hala simply gives Guzma a questioning look when you arrive. He gives a cocky grin back. This morning he feels argumentative, breaking up the forms with questions about what exactly you’re doing, what the movements, mean, what – you give up on concentrating on the movements when he asks, “Can you actually even hit people with this shit, anyways?”

“Swearing,” Hala says, wagging a finger. Guzma rolls his eyes as the older man walks up to him. “Stand still for a moment.” Hala gets into a balanced stance, facing Guzma, and does a section of a form lightning fast, but lightly, barely touching Guzma with his knuckles and feet. “Yes, you can strike people easily with these moves. You simply speed up. And even if you don’t, you can still land a solid hit.”

“How about you hit me harder, then?” Guzma asks.

“You’re really pushing it,” you tell him, worried.

“I want it,” Guzma says. “I don’t want to learn shit if it’s not helpful.”

“It’s about more than just being able to hurt other people,” Hala says, “and I was hoping you’d learned that by now. Punch me.”

Guzma steps forward, softly throwing something that wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hala easily steps aside and performs a few more moves, rapping Guzma’s arms and chest with his knuckles. Guzma gets angry and tries a real punch, only for Hala to block it and tap him on the side, then in the middle of the chest, then lightly touches the inside of his thigh with the instep of his foot.

Putting his foot down, Hala says, “I would have hoped you knew how to punch well.”

Guzma starts to raise a hand, then thinks hard and puts his fist back down. “I can hit someone if I need to.”

Hala sighs. “At least you know which knuckles to hit with. As for your stance and your actual throw of a punch, that could use work.”

You blink as suddenly the morning exercise goes from the usual forms to the proper way to throw a punch. You follow along, surprised at how many elements are involved – the way Hala teaches you has your whole body engaged, if just to keep you from overbalancing and falling over when your arms shoot out. Guzma concentrates hard, already improving a lot under Hala’s eye.

When you stop for the morning, Hala says, “Don’t take this lightly. It’ll be years of practice before you can throw a proper punch.”

“You fuckin’ kiddin’?” Guzma asks, exasperated.

“You have to build up the proper muscles and make sure you’re doing the correct technique every time.” Hala turns to you. “You, especially, are much better off with kicking, should you need to defend yourself. We’ll work on that next time.” He turns to Guzma. “That should serve for your lesson this morning, I think. Spend the day as you please.”

You turn to Guzma as Hala leaves. “I’d be mad at you for getting screwy about everything, but that was actually pretty cool to learn.”

Guzma folds his arms. “Old man thinks he knows everything.”

You nudge him. “He knows more than you do.”

“It pisses me off.”

“Keep listening to him and maybe eventually you’ll know what he knows.”

He groans. “Maybe.”

You start to walk away from the sand. “You ready to try the Battle Tree?”

“Let me take a nap first.” He heads towards town instead of towards Iki Town and your house. “And let me change my team around.”

You blink. “You have more than one team?”

“Yeah, I need to switch Dewpider out and I have a few guys I want to try out instead of my bugs.”

You blink harder. “You’re still Guzma, right? I’m not standing in front of an alien who looks like him?”

“Ha ha ha. C’mon, let’s go.” He practically drags you along beside him as you stare at him.

 

 

“Who beat you yesterday, anyways?” Guzma asks as the Charizard lands in front of the Battle Tree. You're very thankful your ride pager registers new places as soon as you've been there once, because walking the length of Poni Island again did not sound fun.

“She didn't tell you?” You slide off easily, looking toward the Tree, wondering how it works.

“I know 'em?”

“Check your texts. I’d be surprised if she didn’t say something.”

He gets his Dex out and flips through his messages. Then he looks up, staring at you. “You serious?”

“No, we’re playing a practical joke on you. Seriously, tell her congrats.”

He shoots off a few texts while you head for the Tree. They have counters off to the side telling what you can get for Battle Points you've accumulated here and at the Battle Royal Dome. You find the King's Rock you're trying to get; it's only 32 BP, which doesn't sound too bad. Then you find out how the Battle Point tallies work; if you don't consistently win, it'll take 32 battles, and even if you do get on a winning streak, it'll still take 21 at the fewest. You're in this for the long haul; this is gonna take a few days at least. More when you think about getting other evolutionary items to expand your Dex, and maybe a few Mega Evolution stones so your team can power up. Too bad they don't sell this stuff anywhere else on the islands…

You try to explain the system to Guzma, but he just brushes you off. “So we have to battle a ton, whatever. Former champ can't handle it?” He gives you a wicked grin.

You take a look around to size up the other trainers here and realize that a lot of people are staring at you. Not at Guzma, at _you,_ most people turning away when your eyes meet theirs. You forgot about the broadcasts with Guzma distracting you; just about everyone knows now, don't they? What are they thinking?

Guzma takes your hand, feeling you freeze up under the attention. “Don't worry about them.” His other hand lands on your shoulder, gives you a little shake. “C'mon, you're used to this.”

You're used to positive attention, people smiling and waving, greeting you kindly, even, on a couple of bizarre occasions, requests for an autograph or a picture. There are still happy faces here, but mixed in are people sizing you up the way you just were them – and a few people who look like they'd like to chew you up and spit you out. This is going to be just as fierce as the Championship battles.

You swallow and step toward the registration counter, Guzma following. “You okay?”

“Fine.” You smile up at him. “I've been wanting a good challenge.”

 

Eight battles later, you're definitely done for the day. You managed to get five battles up before losing, and after the loss in the sixth battle, you kind of fell apart, managing one more win before getting trounced again. Instead of tired, you feel energized, wanting to go at it again. It's Guzma who stops you. “It's getting late,” he announces, half-dragging you away. “Your Pokémon are exhausted, mine are tired, hell, I could use some real food.”

Sighing, you pull out your pager. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Huh?”

“For dinner.”

He looks at you. “Anywhere?”

“On Alola, yeah.”

“Sushi High Roller.”

You blink. “Where?”

“It’s in Malie City. You didn’t see it?”

“I probably passed by it, yeah.” You call in a Charizard. “This isn’t somewhere fancy, is it?”

“I mean, I’ve never been there,” Guzma confesses. “I just always thought it looked good.” He thinks about it. “I mean, Nanu eats there all the time and he _never_ dresses up so it must be an alright place.”

“Well, sushi it is then.”

When you land, you try to get your hair in some form of order with your fingers, looking at yourself in a shop window, before Guzma grabs your wrists and says, “Relax, you look fine.” You flush as he kisses the top of your head. “Stop worryin’ about it.”

You walk in hand in hand. You look around as the host shows you to a table; it’s a busy restaurant, but not too noisy. Spotting a familiar grey head of hair, you see Nanu with his back to you, sitting with a brown-haired man in a big jacket and a purple-haired woman in a suit. None of them see you. You wonder who his friends are as you take a seat.

Guzma sits next to you, scooting in as close as he can. He sets one hand on your thigh. You brush it off, saying, “Don’t you dare try anything in public.”

“Like what?” he whispers in your ear, hand suddenly on your back, where your shirt meets your shorts, one finger poking under your shirt and caressing your skin.

“Seriously!” you tell him, pulling his hand away, glancing over your shoulder at Nanu’s table.

He looks behind you, sees who you’re looking at, and rolls his eyes. “Oh, of course the old man’s here ruining any fun. As usual.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come here,” you point out as you pick up a menu.

“True. May not come here again if he’ll be here every time,” Guzma mutters, slinging his arm around your shoulder.

Once you’ve ordered, you ask, “So why were you being weird with Hala today?”

“Huh?”

You glance up at him. “It’s like – it’s like you were trying to get him to hit you.”

He blinks. “I – I wasn’t.” He’s not a very good liar.

“You told him to hit you harder.”

“Well, I mean, he was doin’ his shit, he coulda showed me full power moves,” he says. He’s trying to dodge the point.

“Before that you were interrupting him and asking him questions and it’s just like - it’s like you were trying to egg him on or something.” His eyes widen a little. “Is that what you were doing?” He shakes his head. “That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?”

“I just – I don’t get it. He doesn’t get mad.” He looks down at his hand dangling in his lap, clenching and unclenching it, like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Or, like, sometimes he does, but it’s not – it’s weird.”

“So you’re trying to piss him off?”

“I mean, that’s not – I don’t _want_ to, but I don’t – he doesn’t react like I’m used to.”

You stare at him. “Were you expecting him to hit you?”

He takes his arm off your shoulders and balls his fists up in his lap, scrunching up his napkin in between his fingers. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Guzma.” You put your arms around him, not knowing what to say. Is that just what he expects of people now?

Eating is awkward and quiet. You lean into him, wishing you knew the right words to get him to ease up. He puts his arm around you again, at least.

You sit up straight, startled, when Nanu walks up to the table. “Interesting seeing you here,” he says, his usual look on his face. Sometimes you have to wonder if he just practices being stone-faced when he’s by himself.

“Hi, Nanu,” you manage to say, trying to look as if you weren’t just half-asleep on Guzma’s shoulder.

“What’s up, old man?” Guzma asks.

Nanu glances at him. “I don’t really go for the titles or anything, but you’d think you could manage the ounce of respect it takes to use my name, kid.” Guzma sticks his tongue out at him. He sighs. “You’re making me reconsider this.”

“Reconsider what?” you ask.

Nanu looks Guzma over again. “Come see me at Malie Garden tomorrow morning. I have some kids who want to battle you.”

Guzma blinks. “What, like, you kidnapped ‘em?”

Somehow Nanu actually manages to smile at the half-joke. “No. Just some kids on their trials.”

“Why?” Guzma’s suspicious now, and you don’t entirely blame him. Nanu is just kind of springing this out of nowhere.

“Think you can’t beat a couple of kids?” Nanu asks.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’.” Guzma glares at him. “What’re you up to?”

“I just want to see you battle and I have some people on hand. Is it that difficult?”

“So kids in the middle of their island trials?” Nanu nods. “Okay, well, I’m not gonna go easy on ‘em.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Nanu scratches his neck. “So you’re coming?”

Guzma looks at you. “I mean, as far as I know we don’t have any plans,” you say.

Guzma gives you an angry look before turning back to the older man. “Yeah, fine, I’ll be there. Happy now?”

“Good. See ya tomorrow, kids,” Nanu says, giving a little mock salute as he heads for the door, where the people he was eating with are waiting.

“You were supposed to come up with a reason not to go!” Guzma says once he’s out of earshot.

“Why don’t you just go and we find out what he wants?” You’re curious. It can’t just be about the battling, can it?

Guzma groans. “Fine. Just this once.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the night. When you get home, he holds you for a little while on your front porch, not saying much. You try to invite him in, but he says, “I really need to sleep at ho- at Hala’s and change my clothes.”

“Seriously, bring some extras over here,” you tell him as you unlock your door.

“I’ll think about it,” he says. You turn back to him. He gives you a quick peck and whispers, “I love you,” before he leaves. It keeps getting harder to watch him go.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry last chapter wasn't much of anything. Hope this one makes up for it.

Guzma’s still quiet the next morning. Hala begins the morning’s lesson by saying, “I want you to understand that what I am teaching you is meant for exercise and self-defense only. I don’t want to hear about any fights resulting from this.”

You blink, startled. “Of course.” You glance at Guzma; he rolls his eyes before nodding. Hala seems to think it’s enough, starting to teach you how to do a proper front kick. The morning moves fast, and soon your legs are tired, muscles throbbing, from the attempts at getting it right and then from the repetition once you get it down. You flop down in the sand when Hala says his goodbyes for the morning, rubbing your aching thighs. “That was a workout.”

“You alright?” Guzma asks, standing behind you and bending over until his face is over yours.

“Fine.” You reach up and run your fingers over his upside down face. He manages a grin.

“Then let’s go see what the hell’s up with Nanu.”

“This early?” You look around; it’s still early enough that not many tourists are out.

“If he’s not there, I’m getting malasadas.” He straightens up, ruffling a hand through his hair. The roots are starting to show again. “Makin’ the old guy wait a little wouldn’t hurt.”

You call a Charizard with your ride pager. “Do you really dislike him that much?”

He shrugs. “Eh, not really? I don’t really know how to feel about him with all this shit.”

The Charizard lands next to you. You mount up and hold your hand out for Guzma to grab as he climbs up. “Well, he’s helped you out a lot. Can’t be that bad of a dude.”

“I guess.” Guzma clings to you as the Charizard takes off.

It’s not long before you’re standing in Malie Garden. There’s no sign of Nanu anywhere – you end up going with Guzma to get malasadas after all. They taste amazing, and the glass of water you get with them is heavenly after the early morning exercise.

Nanu’s still not there when you get back. You take the time to explore the area. “Didn’t you get to look around last time you were here?” Guzma asks.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “The last time I was here, I had to battle you, and then Kukui dragged me off to get started on heading up to Acerola’s trial.”

“Oh. So I guess I should give you a tour.” Guzma shows you all his favorite spots to sit and relax, outside the more touristy areas.

You barely notice Nanu as you come back to the center from a far corner of the garden until you’re standing right in front of him. He gives a little wave. “I’m surprised you’re here this early,” he says, looking at Guzma.

“You didn’t exactly give a time for us to meet up,” Guzma says, looking over the teenagers standing behind Nanu. His eyes go wide and he smiles. “Hey, Flick!”

“G!” The only boy in the group pops forward and holds his hand out for a fistbump. “Whaddup?”

Guzma grabs him in a bone-crushing hug that quickly turns into a headlock and a noogie, making the kid laugh and shout. “What’re you doin’ here, man?”

“I restarted my trials!” the kid says when Guzma lets him breathe. “They let me start over again!”

“That’s great!” Guzma looks up at Nanu. “How’s he doin’?”

“Alright, as far as I can tell.” Nanu sizes him up. “He’ll probably be ready for his grand trial in the next few days.”

Guzma lets the boy go. “You better beat him down, Flick, you got that?”

“Yeah, G, I won’t let ya down!” The kid makes a few gestures like Team Skull used to do when you confronted them. He must be a former member.

“Hey, none of that crap, we’re done with that, got it?” Guzma says, sounding more serious.

“Uhh, right,” the kid says, stepping back. “No more Team Skull, got it.”

Guzma takes a moment to look over the other two, one young girl and another in her late teens. “You want me to give these kids the beatdown, old man?” The younger girl looks a little frightened at that; the older girl rolls her eyes.

“Yep. Want you to battle ‘em, see how they do.” Nanu beckons the older girl forward. “Nani, how about you start?”

The girl pulls out three Pokéballs, flicking one up in the air. “For an ex-gang leader, you don’t look so tough.”

Guzma pulls out a Pokéball of his own, smirking. “You have no idea what tough is, kiddo.”

 

Guzma beats all three of them without too much trouble, using Araquanid along with a Vibrava and a Scizor you’ve never seen him work with before. They’re lower level Pokemon, not his usual style, especially the Vibrava. After each battle he shakes the kids’ hands and tells them they’re doing a good job. Flick came the closest to beating him, having an advantage in knowing what kind of Pokémon he’d use; Guzma gives him another noogie for good measure before the kids head off, back to their adventuring.

When they’re gone, Guzma asks, “So what was that all about?”

“You didn’t use Golisopod or Ariados,” Nanu notes, ignoring his words. “Interesting.”

“What, you thought I was gonna go full power on some kids? I’m not _that_ much of a jack-ass.”

“I just thought you relied on your overmuscled little bug for everything.”

Annoyed, Guzma says, “So he’s my best partner, so what? You want me to give you a beat-down with him?”

Nanu shakes his head. “I’ve seen enough of how you fight to know how that would go.”

“You mean bad for you, right?” Guzma says, grinning. Instead of answering, Nanu turns and gestures for the two of you to follow. “Hold up. What are you doin’ now?”

“I want you to help me with something,” Nanu says. “We need Charizards. I’m not walking all the way to Po Town.”

“Geezer!” Guzma calls after him. You grab his arm and try to drag him along. He grumbles something under his breath before he starts walking with you.

It’s a mild morning in Po Town, the rain only a light mist and the sun shining through. The barricade’s been taken down – you look into town and see a few kids and adults working to clean up garbage and repair the Pokémon Center. Nanu doesn’t go in, however – he walks to the side of the wall surrounding the town and into the foliage, beckoning for you to follow again. You glance at each other and walk behind him.

It turns out Nanu’s following an overgrown path, brushing past bushes and pulling branches out of his way. Soon you come across two poles marking off a trial area. “What is this place?” you ask, catching up to Nanu.

“The way to Po Beach.” Nanu looks back and grins. “It’s been abandoned for a while.”

Guzma pushes past a few tree limbs and glances at Nanu. “People haven’t been down here for twenty years. What’re you hiding down here?”

“We’ll get there sooner if you’d quit yapping,” Nanu says.

Guzma turns to look at you and gestures toward Nanu, mouthing, “This guy, what the fuck?”

“C’mon,” you tell him, pushing forward again. Clearly this is important to him.

It’s a long walk through the forest before the dirt starts to become sandy and you can smell the ocean. When you finally come out on the beach, you wonder if it was ever really _used_ as a beach – it’s so small. There’s not much space between the waves and the wall that is the hill Po Town sits on. It’s still a nice little spot, no garbage, very little rain. Nanu stops beside the entrance to a cave that the water is rushing into. “What I want you to see is there,” he says to Guzma, pointing inside it.

“Is this some weird trap?” Guzma asks. “I go in there and get rushed by police?”

“You really still think I want to arrest you?” Nanu asks. “I promise this isn’t a trick. Get your ass in there.”

Guzma hesitates for a moment before walking inside. You look inside – the path twists off to the side after about fifteen feet. When he’s out of sight, you ask Nanu, “What are you doing?”

“Testing him.”

“For what?”

“I’ll let you know if it works out.” Nanu watches as Guzma disappears. “I think it will, but you can never be sure.”

After ten minutes of standing around, you ask, “How big is this cave?”

“Not very. A couple twists and turns before you get to the center.”

It’s only a few more minutes before you start to get antsy. “Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

“Let’s follow him,” Nanu says. You follow him into the cave proper.

The first few turns are dark – Nanu pulls out a lighter to keep you from stumbling all over yourself. After a while, though, he puts it away – there’s light coming from the tunnels ahead. You look around; there are little holes in the ground, signs of Digletts, and cracks in the walls that could be big enough to shelter small Pokémon.

You’re about to ask a question when you come into the central chamber of the cave. Green-tinted light shines down from above – you look up and see that the walls form a kind of tunnel down from the top of the forested hill. Towards the back, Guzma kneels with a gigantic Golisopod, one bigger than his own, in some kind of nest thrown together from decaying plants from the forest. When he hears you approach, Guzma raises a finger to his mouth, telling you to be quiet, as the Golisopod sees you and freezes up. There are more tunnels out of here, but not human-made; they look like they were carved out of the rock by the Golisopod, or a Pokémon like it.

Standing still for a few moments, you watch the Golisopod as it watches you. It’s curled in on itself, clearly frightened. Guzma’s gently patting it, trying to calm it down. You and Nanu do your best not to move, since movement is what tends to freak them out. After a while, it uncurls itself and stands, chittering. There’s a strange bulge to its stomach and abdomen.

Guzma rubs its arm, looking at it with awe. He turns back to Guzma. “She’s pregnant.”

Nanu nods. “That’s what I thought. It’s good to see with how rare Wimpod are getting.” He steps forward, getting close enough to pat the Golisopod on the head. It chirps at him, recognizing him. You’re afraid to move, worried that you’re the problem.

“Yeah, you don’t really see Golisopods in the wild, do you?” Guzma asks, still looking her over.

“You don’t see many Golisopods, period.” Nanu looks at Guzma. “I had a suspicion when you came around as kid with that thing, but when Hala said he turned you down as a trial captain, I wasn’t so sure.”

“Sure of what?” Guzma asks. It’s a reasonable question.

“You’ve proven it to me today, though.” Nanu fishes some Pokébeans out from his pocket. “Once this girl’s had her brood and can fight again, she’s going to be the Totem here.”

Guzma stares at him. “You mean there’ll be a trial down here?”

Nanu reaches into his pocket again and pulls out a charm. “You’ll be captain.”

Guzma takes one step back, then another. “You’re – you’re – stop fuckin’ with me, man!”

“It’s time Ula’Ula had three trials again. And I can’t think of anyone better for a Bug-themed trial.” Nau pats the Golisopod. “Or anyone else who’s tamed a Golisopod the way you have in the last several years.”

This time, Guzma shouts. “Stop fuckin’ with me!” The Golisopod quivers. He steps forward and runs his hands over it again, whispering to it until it calms down.

“She’s already getting along with you,” Nanu points out. “And you don’t wanna know how long it took me to get her to come out of hiding.”

“But – but – I’m too old,” Guzma points out, voice shaky. “I’m not – I’m not –”

“Not good enough?” Nanu stares at him. “Look at me. Guzma.” Guzma looks down and catches his eye. “I know you’re not the right age. I don’t give a damn. And Bulu doesn’t seem to, either.” When he says that, there’s a harsh ringing noise and a loud Pokémon call from overhead. You look up to see the shadow of the tapu as it floats near the hole. You look down, at Guzma – he gazes back, stunned. He turns to Nanu when the older man speaks again. “So to hell with tradition. We need another captain. You’re it.”

Guzma leans over, then collapses to his knees. You start to run forward, but the Golisopod shrieks at you, backing away and toward a tunnel. You slow down, edging toward Guzma, trying not to scare the Pokémon. When you’re finally close enough, you get down on your knees, putting your hand on his back. He looks up at you; he’s crying. “You okay?” you ask him quietly.

He screws his eyes shut and wipes his face. “Yeah. I’m – I’ve never been better.” He pulls you forward into a tight hug. You return the embrace, feeling new tears drip down onto your shoulder.

It’s sweet until Nanu says, “Okay, kids, party’s over. This Golisopod needs her rest.” You shoot a glare at him before you pull yourself away from Guzma and get to your feet. He takes your hand and gets up himself, giving the Golisopod a few more pats before heading toward the tunnel you came in through.

When you exit the cave, Nanu turns to Guzma again and says, “You need to start thinking about what the trial should be, what it’ll mean for the people who come here. Used to be that finding the Totem Den itself out in the forest was a good part of the trial.” Guzma silently nods. “Tell me when you get a few ideas. We still have more details to work out, but that’s enough for today, I think.” Nanu calls in a Charizard. “Safe trip home, kids,” he calls as he mounts up.

“That bastard,” Guzma says as you watch the kahuna fly off. You look at him; he’s smiling. “That fuckin’ bastard.”

You hug Guzma again. “Can’t be many trial captains blessed by the tapu themselves.”

Guzma laughs. “Guess not.”

 

Letting Guzma tell you where to go, you take a Charizard yourselves to Iki Town. After a few minutes of looking around for him, you spot Hala coming down Mahalo Trail. Guzma walks up to him and just says, “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Oh, was Nanu’s test today?” Hala asks. Guzma gives him an uncertain look; suddenly you see in him the child standing there, looking for approval, the teenager hoping for recognition. “You passed?”

“Y-yeah.”

Hala takes his hand and shakes it firmly. “Good job. You deserve the honor.” He looks up into the younger man’s face. “This doesn’t mean we’re finished working together. But it does mean you’ve come a long way from where you’ve started.”

Guzma wipes away a few tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. “Th-thanks.” He turns away and comes to you, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go have a quiet day at home. I don’t think I can take much more happening today.”

You put your arm around his waist. “Sounds good to me.”


	24. Chapter 24

The next day, Hala hands Guzma a ride pager after the morning workout. He squeezes it in his hand. “Do I have to go all over and get this thing programmed to everywhere?”

“Not really. It’s keyed to the major cities and routes with Pokémon Centers.”

“Great.” It takes him a minute to look up and say, “Thanks.”

Hala smiles. “It’s a necessity if you’re going to live this far away from your trial.”

Once he’s left, Guzma turns to you. “Um, you mind if I head out?”

“Where are you going?” You’re more curious than anything; normally at this point in the morning he’s complaining about wanting a nap.

“Trial site.” He shrugs. “Wanna make sure the Golisopod’s okay. She looked like she was gonna lay her eggs any minute.” He thinks about it and scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, at least as far as I know, I mean, I haven’t really seen a pregnant Golisopod before.” He looks up at you. “I mean, you don’t usually see a pregnant anything unless you’re spending a lot of time at the ranch.”

“Or you’re breeding them yourself.” He stares at you. “My mom occasionally bred her Clefable and a Ditto at home, okay? It was more than a little bit weird.”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds weird.” He presses a button on the pager. Within minutes a Charizard lands in front of him. His smile at it is so genuine. You give him a hug before he mounts up and rides off, then head back to your place.

You’re content to spend the next few days quietly around the house, letting your Pokémon out to rest and play around the house with you. They’ve had a hard few months with the whole Champion thing; they deserve some time off. Guzma’s gone most of the time, looking around the trial site and talking with Nanu about getting everything set up. At night he just spends a couple hours hanging out with you until he has to go back to Hala’s.

One morning, you hear the knock on the door and open it to find him wearing a pair of tight black pants. He looks down at himself, bites his lip, then asks, “Do I look ridiculous?” He looks down again and answers himself. “Shit, I look fucking ridiculous.”

“No, it’s nice!” You lift up his shirt; he’s wearing a belt, holy crap. “I like it.” You let go of his shirt and look up at him. “Any particular reason?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking awkward. “I mean, I gotta wear somethin’ nicer than fuckin’ sweats for the trial stuff, right?”

“Take a look at whatever the hell Kiawe’s wearing and get back to me on that.” You stop and think for a moment. “Okay, to be fair, he has to stand at the top of a fucking volcano all day.”

“I mean, I just wanna… wanna look a little nicer.”

 “Give me a sec.” You run to your room and come back out with his hoodie.

He takes it with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Well, I mean, I’ll wash it, but yeah! It looks good on you!”

He flips it around to the back and shows you the big red X he marked over the Skull symbol. “Nah. Not cuttin’ it.”

“Then get a new one.” You size him up; you really don’t mind him showing off the shape of his legs in the new pants. “Maybe one that fits better.”

“Just black?”

“I mean, the black and white thing kinda works for you.” You look him over. “I mean, you could always go for purple.” His eyes widen. “What, you thought it was a secret you like purple? You wear freaking purple eyeshadow.”

“Point.” He looks himself over again. “Maybe a purple shirt…” he mumbles.

“That’d be fun.” You step out and take his hand. “Let’s go shopping!”

“You are such a girl,” he mutters as he tosses his jacket back inside.

You glare. “I don’t like shopping. But I wanna see you wearing something new, come on.”

 

A few days later, Guzma says, “So the kahunas are havin’ a meeting of all the trial captains and the League people and shit in a few days.”

“Any reason?”

He scuffs his feet on your floor as he sits back on the couch. “I mean, partly to tell people about me, I guess?” He shrugs. “They haven’t really had a big meeting like this since before Kukui started up the Elite Four so they wanna get together and, I dunno, shoot the shit or somethin’.” He looks up. “Go with me?”

“Why? I mean, I’m not really part of the League anymore…”

“But you were the Champ. Hell, they’re probably gonna invite you anyway.” This is one of the rare times where he actually looks a bit scared. “Please?”

You take his hand. “Well, I mean, just because you asked so nicely.” You rub your thumb over the back of his hand. “Plumes’ll be there too. It’ll be fine.”

Later that day you get a text from Kukui – Guzma was right, he’s inviting you to join in. Sounds like he wants to talk about how the League’s been doing so far, and you were there long enough to have an opinion people want to listen to.

The meet-up’s at Malie Garden in the evening. That morning, Guzma asks, “You mind if we leave early?”

“You’re already planning on bailing?”

“I mean, I just don’t wanna stay there all night!” he says defensively. “I may have some… some plans for later, and I know you don’t like stayin’ up too late. And I want to stay over.”

“Okay.”

You and Guzma ride together to the island. He’s wearing his new pants and a lavender shirt and nervousness is radiating off of him. He just gets tenser when you get off the Charizard. You take his hand and lead him into the gardens, towards the benches in the middle of the place, hoping he’ll loosen up. He’s not even trying to feign cockiness the way he used to. It’s hard to tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

Lana, Mallow, Ilima, Acerola, Hala, Hapu, and Olivia are already there. Most wave to you on arrival; Acerola comes up and gives one of her customary crushing hugs. Hala shakes Guzma’s hand. A few of the others give him odd looks, wondering why he’s here. Olivia gives you a hug and then, to your surprise, turns to Guzma and asks about his eyeshadow. You look at her and Hapu and realize the other kahunas probably already know about Guzma, even if most of the trial captains haven’t been told yet.

When he’s done talking with Olivia, Guzma finds a distant bench to sit at, hunched over, keeping to himself. Once you finish a conversation with Lana, you go sit next to him. “You okay?”

It’s so obvious he feels out of place. “Fine,” he mutters.

You hold his hand again and lean into him. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“I just…” He looks over the group, which is slowly growing. “I don’t – don’t –” He swallows.

“You can do this.” You look up and get to your feet. “Plumes is here!”

Surprisingly, she walks in with Kahili; you don’t know if that was intentional or not. When she sees Guzma, she laughs and gives him a hug before Acerola pulls her away. She gets along with the Elite Four well, it seems, and the others know why she’s here, slowly introducing themselves as people mingle. Eventually she makes her way back to Guzma; with her at his side, he relaxes more.

Once everyone’s there, Kukui gets everyone quiet. “Thanks for coming today, guys!” he starts, cheerful as always. “I know we’re all busy but taking the time to get together is important.”

“If he starts talking about the power of friendship…” Plumes says under her breath. You can’t help snickering.

“Now, before we get to business with the League, Nanu has an announcement.” Guzma tenses up again, squeezing your hand hard.

Nanu stands up. Being Nanu, he gets straight to the point. “You all know Po Town is in the process of getting cleaned up by now. We’re reinstating the Po Beach trial. We already have a captain ready.” He gestures to Guzma, who’s frozen to his seat. “C’mon, kid.” Slowly Guzma stands up. There are a couple of hushed whispers among the captains. He tries to smile, but it looks fake.

“Isn’t he too old?” Sophocles asks tactlessly. Guzma stiffens.

“Guzma is older than usual, yes.” Nanu looks around him. “The other kahunas and I voted unanimously to make an exception in his case. Since he is older, he’ll be passing on the title earlier, in four years or so.” Guzma’s unfazed by this; it must be one of the things he’s been talking over with Nanu.

Someone – with this many people crowded onto a few benches, it’s a little hard to tell who – asks, “You guys sure he’s, uh, ready for it?”

Hala responds. “I’ve been working with him personally for the last few months. If we haven’t gotten him into shape yet, trust me, we will. It’ll be a few weeks before the trial opens up to island challengers.”

You blink when you see Ilima stand. “The Po Beach Totem is a Bug-type, according to my research. I certainly don’t know anyone better to handle a Bug-type trial.” You could hug the kid.

Then Plumeria gets to her feet. “I know it’s been tough with all the – the crap we’ve put you through,” she says, glancing around at everyone, “but I promise we’re on the up and up. Just tryin’ to help undo some of the chaos we caused.”

As a nice surprise, the Elite Four get up to support her, and slowly people seem to accept the news. Guzma’s all too happy to stay quiet and sit down. The conversation turns to the League and how things are going. You’re called on to speak about your experiences being Champion, asked to let people know if you have any input on how things could run more smoothly. Once the spotlight’s on you, it’s easy enough to understand Guzma’s unease. You’re thankful when other people are asked to speak.

People start to talk amongst themselves as the meeting goes on and the sky gets dark, and slowly the event goes from a round-table about the League to a social gathering, captains from different islands catching up with each other. Guzma gives Plumeria a hug. “Thanks for savin’ my ass out there.”

“You know I’m here for ya, doofus,” she replies, grinning up at him.

After a little while, Guzma comes up and squeezes your hand. “Can we go?” he whispers. He’s more relaxed than he was starting out, but he’s still had trouble making small talk with people.

“Okay.” You give a few goodbyes and walk out with him. “How bad was it?” you ask as you leave the gardens.

“I feel like it would’ve been less awkward if someone had just straight up stabbed me,” he says.

“You did fine.”

“Couldn’t even get my mouth open.” He seems pissed with himself.

You pat him on the back. “It’ll get easier over time.”

“Just like everything else,” he says with a sigh.

“Exactly!”

“That’s not a good thing. I want it easier right now.”

You pull out your ride pager. “It’ll come. Just – relax.”

When you get home, Guzma visibly lightens up; it’s like a weight’s been taken off his shoulders. He can’t wait for you to get the door open. Once you do, he spins you around and kisses you hard. After the door closes, he backs you up until you’re up against the wall, his hands coming up to rest beside your face. “At least now I get you all to myself.”

“So you said you have plans earlier. Plans for what?”

“For stuff like tyin’ you up.” He leans in closer. “I wanna be in control, the whole time. Tellin’ you what to do. Doin’ whatever the hell I want to you. Sound good?”

“Great,” you tell him. His body’s pressed against yours tight now, pinning you against the wall. “Fantastic.”

“Excellent.” He stares at your lips. “Maybe a little deepthroating, too.”

“I can try.”

“Good.” He grins. “Now kiss me.”

You start out as the one reaching for him, pressing your lips to his, but soon he’s all over you, hands grabbing at your hair and your body, groping you, tongue invading your mouth. He presses your back until you’re arching into him, feeling your shirt rise up underneath his fingers. You run your hands up his sides and down his back, legs against his, trying to feel all of him. He’s twisting his hand in your hair now and giving a gentle tug and you feel fire building in your abdomen. And then he pulls away, breathing hard, and says, “Bedroom, now.” He lets go of you. You pause for a moment. “I meant now,” he says, giving you a gentle push towards the room.

He walks slowly behind you, giving a little whistle. You turn back to catch him staring at your ass – until he looks into your eyes and says, “We’re not there yet.”

When you enter the room, he comes up behind you and pushes you into the wall again, this time having you face the wall, grinding his hips against your ass. He’s already half-hard. He bends and whispers in your ear, “You’re mine, got it?” You nod. He growls, “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m yours.” You feel another twinge of desire pulse through you. He pulls your hair aside and roughly kisses your neck, trailing down to your back.

His hands slip under your shirt, over your stomach, pulling up the hem until it’s over your chest. He stops there to cup your breasts, first squeezing them through the fabric of your bra, then sliding under the material to feel your skin. He pinches your nipples, making you give a sharp gasp. He starts whispering into your ear again, the sound of his voice intoxicating. “You’re gonna do everything I say. You’re gonna get fucked so good you can’t walk, can’t even speak.” He squeezes your nipples harder. You start to bite back a moan before you remember he wants to hear you; you feel him pushing himself harder into you as you cry out. “You’re gonna take my cock and you’re gonna love it. You’re gonna take everything I give you and beg for more.” His hands slip back up to your shirt, pulling it back down. “Now strip for me.”

You pull yourself off the wall while he sits on the bed, leaning back and watching you intently. This is probably supposed to be sexy. You’re not sure how to make taking off your clothes look sexy. Slowly you pull up your shirt, pausing when you start to get it up over your bra. He sits forward and crosses his arms, impatient. You pull the shirt off over your head and drop it. He beckons you forward; when you step within his reach, he unbuttons your shorts and grabs the waistband, ripping them down your leg. While you shimmy out of them, he says, “Matching underwear. Very nice.”

“Thanks,” you say as you step out of your shorts.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asks, giving you an evil smirk.

You stop reaching back behind you to unhook your bra. “I didn’t realize that was one of the rules.”

“You backtalkin’ me?” he asks. You cross your arms and stare back at him. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t say that.” He gets up and unhooks your bra for you. “Besides, I wanna hear you.” He grabs your chin in his hand and looks into your eyes. “I wanna hear how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I think I can do that,” you say, pulling your bra off before you fold your arms over your chest again. It’s hard not to feel self-conscious when you’re almost naked and he’s still fully dressed. Instead of sitting down, he walks to your nightstand and opens the bottom drawer, pulling out a long coil of purple rope. “You see what I mean with the purple thing?” He laughs. “Seriously, though, you need to stop sneaking things into my room.”

“Where would the fun be in you knowin’ what I’ve got waitin’ for ya?” he asks as he sits back on the bed. “Now c’mere.” He has you sit on his lap, back to him, hands behind you. He wraps several loops around each wrist before tying it off with a complicated knot. He sticks his fingers between the rope and your arm, checking how tight it is. “This okay?”

You try to move your arms, but you can barely pull them apart. “I mean, this isn’t exactly comfortable, but it works.”

“Good. Let me know if it gets uncomfortable, especially if it starts hurting. Clap your hands?” It’s a bit awkward to do but you can do it. “If you can’t talk, do that to let me know you need to stop.” He pauses for a moment to put his hands on your stomach, then slides them over your skin to your breasts. He kisses your neck, moving down to your shoulder, and bites down lightly. When he lets go, he says, “Get up.” Once you’re standing, he commands, “Turn around and get on your knees.” You sit, head level with the bulge in his pants. He pulls you up and gives you a long, deep kiss before he lets you back down again.

His fingers brush through your hair until he’s got a hold on the back of your scalp. He pushes your head forward, pressing your face into his clothed erection. You kiss him through his pants. He lets go long enough to pull his pants down, just far enough that he’s got his dick out. That done, he takes hold of your head again with one hand and holds his dick with the other, running the tip over your cheek and lips. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” You open your mouth, letting him pop it in. he pulls your head forward slowly, watching to see if you’re comfortable. You fold your thumbs into your palms and squeeze, just in case. He stops where you normally stop, pushes you back.

Pushing you down again, he says, “God, I just wanna fuck your face.”

You turn your head enough to get his cock out of your mouth. It smears spit on your cheek as you move. “I mean, if you want to…”

“I don’t wanna get rough yet.” His hand comes forward, grabbing your chin again, making you look up at him. He slips his thumb over your lips. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” You open your lips to let his thumb in and suck. He leaves it there for a minute, screwing his eyes shut and groaning as you lick him. Eventually, he moves his hand back to the back of your head and pushes his cock in again, a little deeper this time.

He doesn’t quite face-fuck you, but his hips start giving shallow thrusts. You’re not really deepthroating him but it’s close enough to be slightly uncomfortable until you manage to make yourself relax. Every once in a while, he pauses, giving you time to run your tongue over his head and move at your own pace. Finally he pushes down deep and holds you there, moaning as he comes. He waits until he’s completely done to pull you off his softening cock. “That okay?” he asks quietly as he pulls his pants back up. You nod. “Good girl.” He pulls you onto his lap and kisses you again, tongue pushing deep into your mouth.

When he’s done with that, he lays you on your side, lifting your arms until they’re above your head, then rolls you onto your back. “You think you can handle laying like this for a while?”

You roll your shoulders. Your arms are flat on the bed, being supported. “I think so.”

“Let me know if you get uncomfortable or things hurt.”  He takes the rope – there’s quite a bit of it left – and ties it to the bedpost. Once he’s done with that, he takes off his shirt and settles himself over you, smirking. “Now I can do whatever I want to you,” he says, running a hand down your arm from your wrist to your shoulder.

What he wants to mainly right now is kiss you, tugging at your lips with his teeth, as his hands explore every part of your body. When he gets to your ass, he squeezes hard, rocking your hips up against his abdomen. “I think you’re already starting to get me hard again,” he says as he grinds against you.

He makes his way down your legs to your feet before he comes back up, grabbing your hair and kissing you roughly as his other hand slips under your panties. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he says. “Told you you’d like this.” His fingers dip into the slick wetness around your hole before starting to circle around your clit. “C’mon, let me hear you,” he says as he rubs you. You moan and gasp against his mouth as he teases you.

When you’re pretty close to coming, he stops, pushing his fingers down and sticking them inside you. “Don’t make me do all the work,” he says as he stops moving them. You rock your hips forward onto his hand. “Keep goin’.” For a few minutes you roll and buck your hips, trying to get him to push in deeper, tugging against the restraints, wishing you could grab his hand and make him move his fingers in farther. When you’ve tired yourself out, he says, “What do you want?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp.

He pulls his fingers further out of you. “Louder. Beg for it.”

“Please, please fuck me,” you plead, “I need you inside me, fuck, please!”

He grins and thrusts in hard, curling his fingers into your g-spot. “What was that?”

You moan. “Shit, your fingers, fuck me with your fingers, make me come, please, Guzma!”

“I love it when you say my name,” he says. He gets into a rhythm, pushing in hard and deep, then working your g-spot before pulling out and thrusting again. Every once in a while he stops, making you talk him into fucking you again. You get to the point where it’s hard to form full sentences when he finally stops screwing around and finger-fucks you in earnest. The whole time he watches your face, kissing you on occasion when you go quiet. When you think you can’t handle it anymore, he pulls out and starts rubbing your clit again. “Whose are you?” he asks.

“I – I’m yours,” you manage to say between groans. You’re close to the edge.

“That’s fuckin’ right, you’re mine.” He bites his lip as he starts to rub harder, sending you into bliss. “Can make you beg, make you scream, make you come when I want. Ruin you for anything, anyone else but me.” You press your face into his neck as you start to come down, feeling him speak. “And you fuckin’ love it.” He pulls your head away, looks at you intently – he wants to make sure he’s right. You nod. He kisses you before he raises his soaked fingers to his lips and sucks. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

 You lie there for a minute or two before you try to flex your hands. “I think my arms are falling asleep.”

“Shit.” Guzma gets up and unties the rope from the bedpost, then quickly undoes the knot between your hands. Once he’s gotten the rope off, you pull your arms down and settle them over your stomach. He rubs your arms gently. “That better?”

“Yeah.” When your hands feel normal, you turn and hold him, pressing your face into his neck again. “I really liked that.”

“You did?”

“Uh huh.” You run a finger down his chest. “It was sexy, you controlling me.”

“Good.” He wraps his arms around your waist. “I was a little worried I was going overboard with the begging.”

“It was fun. Kind of hard to think of new things to say after a while, though.”

“We’ll make it work better next time – I mean, if you wanna do it again.”

You nod. “Yeah, we can try again.” You look up at him. “Maybe I’ll tie you up next time.”

“I wouldn’t object.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and notice he’s getting hard again. You reach your hand down and feel him through his pants. “You wouldn’t want to take care of this, would you?”

He grins. “I would love to. Wanna go another round?”

Your fingers travel to the waistband of his pants and pull down. “Sounds good.”

While he gets his pants off, you roll onto your stomach with a sigh. He rolls a condom on fast and runs his hand down your spine before he crawls on top of you, kissing down your neck again. He presses himself on top of you, hands running down your arms, legs lining up with yours. Once he’s ready, he lifts your hips and positions himself, pushing in slowly before laying down on top of you again.

He’s slow, rolling his hips back and forth, letting you feel every inch of him every time as he pushes in and out, groaning in your ear, holding you close. This angle has him hitting your g-spot at a new angle, and it feels so good – you can feel your toes curling as you grab and clench the sheets. The urge to come isn’t quite as intense as usual – the closeness feels so nice.

Eventually, though, you reach down under yourself and start rubbing your clit. He hisses as you clench up on him. “Shit, did that hurt?” you ask, stopping.

“Felt so good.” He pushes in a little harder with a moan. You start to touch yourself again. As you get close, he starts talking again, babbling, “Fuck, you feel so good, I love this, I love you, I could do this every night, I just wanna hold you close and – sh-shit – I love that I have you all to myself, that you let me wreck you like this –“ He’s speeding up a bit as he speaks.

A few more circles around your clit and you’re coming, gasping, “Holy fuck,” as you tighten around his cock.

It only takes him a few more minutes to finish himself, burying his face in your shoulder and whispering, “I love you, I love you, love you, love you, oh shit, I love you…”

When he’s done and quiet again, you turn to him and say, “I love you too.” You lay there for a while, tangled together, unwilling to pull apart from each other.

Unfortunately, at some point he has to get up and take care of the condom, and you have to use the bathroom. When you come back in the room, he’s yawning, sprawled across the bed. You go to your dresser and motion for him to come over. He raises his eyebrows, unwilling to get up. “Come here,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He gets up reluctantly. “What, you finding new places to hide sex toys?”

“No.” You open the bottom two drawers; they’re empty. He stares at them, confused.

Then, suddenly, he gets it and looks at you. “You – you want me to…?”

“If you think you’re ready.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace. “Hell yeah.” You smile as he kisses the part in your hair. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” You pull away and tug him back toward the bed. “Now cuddle me. I like cuddling.”

“I call big spoon.”

“Works for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how long I've been trying to work this damn sex scene in. FINALLY.


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning, Guzma comes over with two boxes – it’s hard to believe all his possessions fit into them. He doesn’t have much to put in the drawers you have for him, but he takes his time putting his clothes away, making sure everything’s neat and his shirts are hung up properly. “Wasn’t expecting you to be a neat freak,” you comment, kneeling next to him, helping him fold some of his pants.

He flushes. “I just want – you keep your stuff nice. Tryin’ not to be a slob for once.”

“Keep your dirty clothes off the floor and I think we’ll be good.” You smile at him. “Don’t feel like everything has to be perfect.”

“I know it doesn’t need to be perfect.” He pauses. “Just – good enough.”

You lean in and kiss his cheek. “You’re good enough. I promise.”

He presses his forehead against yours and smiles. “Thanks.”

 

Now that things are quieting down, you start planning trips to go out and explore the islands again, wanting to search for rare Pokémon. It’d be cool to have your own Lapras, and you want Guzma’s help to find a Wimpod. Plus, you’ve still got your little Poliwag to train, both in levels and in friendliness…

You’re at home, thinking about which Pokémon you have and which would be smartest to take for catching lower-level Pokémon, when someone knocks on the door. You open it to see a tall man with brown hair, a long, dark tan jacket, and a briefcase standing on your porch. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen him before. “Can I help you?”

The man flips open a police badge. “My name’s Looker. I’m an investigator for the International Police. If we could have a word?”

You reluctantly invite him in, wondering what’s up. This isn’t about Guzma, is it?

He sits at your kitchen table and opens his briefcase, pulling a file out from it. He opens it and shows you a photo; from the grainy texture, the timestamp in the corner, and the black-and-white tones, it looks like a security camera photo. It’s a blurry shot of a Nihilego. From what you can see of the surroundings, it looks like the one that appeared in the Aether Foundation’s conservatory. “You’ve had interactions with this creature and its kind before, correct?”

“Yeah. I fought that one.”

“How did that go?” he asks.

“Not great. The hits I got on it didn’t do much.”

“That was, let’s see, about four months ago now?”

You try to think back that far; so much happened while you were doing the island trials that things have become a bit of a blur sometimes. “Uh, I think so?” You look at the timestamp. “I mean, that is about four months back, yeah.”

“And from what I understand regarding the events surrounding Miss Lusamine’s arrest, you were the one who tracked her down to Ultra Space and found her?”

“With Lillie, yeah.”

“Lusamine’s daughter, yes, she was mentioned several times in the case files.” He looks up from the papers he’s sorting through. “Do you know where she’s staying right now?”

“With Professor Kukui, I think.” You look back at him. “I mean, she’s not about to get arrested or something, is she? Because she didn’t do a thing wrong.” Hopefully no one would think of doing something about her stealing Nebby.

He smiles. “No, no, she’s fine. We’re just trying to keep track of everyone involved in those events. I’d tracked her down to Professor Kukui’s but I wanted to be sure.” He pulls out a list of notes on a piece of paper with a photo of you on it. You try not to stare, hoping they just have a file on you because of the Ultra Beast incidents. “And I see you were Alola’s first Champion for a few months?”

“Yeah.” You finally place where you’ve seen him before. “Um, do you know Nanu?”

“Yes, actually, why?”

“Uh, you were eating with him at Sushi High Roller a week or so ago, right?” He stares. “We were there on the same night, that’s all,” you clarify, realizing you probably sound a little creepy.

Slowly he nods. “Yes, Nanu’s a contact for us. I’m not allowed to say much else about it.” You relax a bit; Nanu may be a little odd, but he seems to have a good head when it comes to trusting people. “Anyway, I was hoping that you could meet with my superior and help us out with this case.”

“Help you out with what?”

“With more information about the Ultra Beasts you’ve encountered. And perhaps help in the fight with them.”

You blink. “Uh, fighting them?” It really didn’t go great last time…

“You know that multiple beasts were found all over Alola after Lusamine opened her own portal to Ultra Space, correct?”

“Yeah.” You think about it. “I haven’t really heard much since, actually.” Now that it’s on your mind, it seems a bit odd. They wouldn’t just disappear, would they? Had other wormholes opened up to let them go back home?

Looker puts the file away and gets up. “Do you have the time to speak with my superior now?”

“I mean, yeah…” This is the weirdest way your day could have gone, you think.

“Then please meet me at the motel on Route 8. Akala Island.” He shakes your hand and walks out. You take a moment to put up your Pokémon and review what the hell just happened in the last ten minutes.

You trust Looker a little, knowing that he knows Nanu, but what if this is some weird kind of scheme? But what would it be a scheme for? What if you just stayed here and never went to the motel? Would they arrest you or subpoena you or something?

With a sigh, you head out the door and call a Charizard. It’s easier to just do what he says.

When you meet Looker at the motel, he leads you into a room and closes the door. In the living room, the girl with purple hair you saw at Sushi High Roller gets off the couch and dusts off her suit. She looks younger than Looker – is she really his superior? “Thank you for taking time out of your day to meet with us,” she says with a smile, shaking your hand as well.

“I mean, I’m not sure how much help I can be,” you tell her, “but I’ll try, I guess.”

“You’re a witness to so many events involving Ultra Space! Just your memory will be helpful to us.” She sits down, then pops up again. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Anabel, the head investigator on this case.”

“So what is the case, exactly?” you ask as she sits and gestures for you to take a seat. Looker sits down next to her.

“We’ve been studying the Ultra Beasts now that they’ve appeared on Alola.” Anabel reaches into another briefcase, similar to Looker’s but less travel-worn and scuffed, and pulls out more files. “And, well, we’ve run into some problems with detaining them.”

“Detaining?”

Anabel pulls out a pencil and starts writing as she talks. “We can’t just let them run loose all over Alola. And what if they somehow escape Alola and make their way out into the world at large? Tracking them down would be almost impossible. It’s already been difficult to verify their whereabouts.”

You sit down; this seems like it’ll take a while. “I mean, where have they been? There hasn’t been much news on them since they appeared.”

Looker speaks up now. “According to our contacts and our research, the tapu and the wild Pokémon of the islands seem to have been holding the Ultra Beasts off, away from society. But there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to keep the beasts away from civilization, and the chance that they could run into trainers, especially young trainers on their trials…”

Anabel sorts through her notes. “There have been a few police teams sent to try to fight off the beasts, but they’re proving too tough to handle, even for us.” She glances up at you. “That’s where you come in.”

You blink. “You want me to try to fight Ultra Beasts?”

“With our support, yes.” Anabel studies a piece of paper; you suspect it’s about you.

“I’m sorry, but if full teams of police can’t handle this, how are you expecting me to?” You cross your arms over your chest. “I mean, the one time I fought one, I barely put a dent in it.”

Looker points out, “As we discussed earlier, that happened months ago – since then you’ve proven yourself to be an incredibly strong trainer. You’ve managed to capture a legendary Pokémon and stayed Alola’s champion for months.”

“For, like, two months,” you reply.

“Closer to three,” Anabel says. “Moreover, you’ve had more experience with the beasts than most people in the world have.”

“That doesn’t mean I know how to beat them.”

“We’ll help you with that. We’ve been able to track them down and observe some details about the way they act.” As if to prove her point, Anabel pats her briefcase and the papers she’s looking through.

You look down. “I mean, why not ask the kahunas for help with this? They know what they’re doing way more than I do.”

“They have their own duties and responsibilities to take care of,” Looker says.

“So you’re coming to me because I’m out of a job right now.”

Anabel says, “Well, it does help that you don’t have to worry about reporting to work right now.”

But what about your own plans? What about what you want to do, exploring the islands and meeting new Pokémon?

What if you run into an Ultra Beast without any back-up while you’re adventuring? What if a kid does?

“How many Ultra Beasts are there?” you ask.

“Seven.” Anabel passes a file to you. “Here’s all of our current information about them.”

You open it and flick through it, seeing blurry photos and a couple of fact sheets for each of the beasts. There’s not much to go on. It doesn’t fill you with confidence.

Looker says, “Outside of asking you, we really don’t have many options left.” Anabel glares at him. “I’m just being honest,” he says.

You look at him. He’s being manipulative; if you’re the only one left to help, what are they supposed to do if you turn them down?

You take a few minutes to think about it, but you keep coming back to the same conclusion; you have to do this. You take a deep breath and ask, “So are we killing these things? Sending them back through a portal? What am I supposed to do with them, besides just fight.”

Anabel reaches into her briefcase again and pulls out a strange-looking Pokéball. It’s a bit larger than a normal ball, white with gold triangles, a flicker of green at the center of the triangles. “Lusamine had the Aether Foundation develop special ‘beast balls’ to contain the creatures she hoped to capture. We’ve tested them; they should be able to take the Ultra Beasts. You’ll be capturing them and handing them over to the Aether Foundation. Hopefully from there, we can figure out a way to send them back to Ultra Space.”

You study the pictures of the beasts again. They look strange and fierce, even in the blurred shots. “Do I have to do this by myself?”

“As we’ve stated, you’ll have us for back-up,” Looker says. “Nanu’s been helping us research the beasts; he should be able to help you as well.”

“But it’s just me against seven of these… things.”

Anabel asks, “Who would work with you?”

You think about it. “Could I ask Guzma?”

Anabel’s eyebrows raise. “Your… partner?” How much do these fuckers know?

“You want these beasts captured ASAP, right?” The two nod. “Guzma’s trial doesn’t open for another few weeks, so he has some time. I just – I really don’t feel great about fighting these things on my own, after last time.” You think about it. “Maybe Hau could help too. He’s a great trainer.”

“We’d prefer not to involve other people in this, minors especially,” Looker says. “Nothing against kids, but, well, it’s hard to trust that they’d listen to orders.” He thinks. “From our files on Guzma, I’m not sure we can trust him to work with us, either.”

“Ask Nanu.” You look Anabel in the face. “Hell, talk to Hala. Talk to him yourself. He’s changed a lot in the past few months.”

The two agents look at each other. “Are you sure he’d be willing to help?”

He would, right? “I think so.” They trade looks again. “Who knows him better, me or you?” you ask, annoyed.

“We’ll discuss the matter with our contacts with knowledge on the matter,” Anabel says. “If they believe he can be trusted, we’ll inform him and allow him to make his own choice.”

“Can I talk to him about it?”

Looker’s starting to look annoyed himself. “We’re trying to keep these operations quiet. You can’t just go telling anyone about these matters. You realize we’re giving you classified information, right?”

“I get that, but –” You can feel your face heating up while you explain. “Well, we live together. He’s not gonna take any excuses about me running around all over the place, especially if I’m gone for more than a day.” You swallow at the next thought that comes to mind. “Or if I get hurt.”

Anabel sighs. “I suppose you must, if that’s the case. I ask that you only reveal what you have to until we make a decision about bringing him into this. It shouldn’t take too long, just a day or so.” You nod. “So you’ll help us?”

“Y-yeah.” What are you getting yourself into?

The two have you stay for another half hour or so, answering questions about your experiences in Ultra Space and your contact with the Nihilego. They have you sign forms stating you’ll keep these meetings confidential before they let you go.

When you get home, you find yourself fidgety and restless. Where are the Beasts now? If they’re so strong, how are you supposed to take them on?

You’re not feeling much better when Guzma arrives, earlier than he usually does when he’s working with Nanu. “What’s up?” he asks after hugging you, noticing something’s off.

“I’ve had… a weird day.” You explain what you can to him – it’s hard to know what’s too much information to give him.

When you get to the part about capturing the Ultra Beasts, he asks, “You’re supposed to do this by yourself?”

“Well, actually, I was hoping you’d help.”

“Duh, I’ll help!”

You smile at him. “They’ll ask you about it in a few days, I think they said. They should.” Quietly, you hope Nanu will tell them good things.

“Why’re they waitin’?” He makes a fist and punches his palm. “We need to get rid of those fuckers. I don’t want any of my kids running into those things during a trial.”

It’s endearing that he’s already thinking of the island challengers as ‘his’ kids. “They’ve, uh, gotta vet you first. They weren’t expecting me to ask for back-up.”

“What, they thought I was just gonna let you wander off by yourself with no help?”

“They seem to think they’ll be enough help. But from what I understand, I’m supposed to do all the actual fighting.”

“Fuck them, I’m not lettin’ you do this alone.” He gives a little shudder. “I know how bad those things are. It’s not fair to throw you up against ‘em like that.”

You remember how he was after being poisoned and nearly mind-controlled by a Nihilego. “You sure you’re up for this? You don’t have to do it.”

“Just like you don’t have to?”

You sigh. “Just – I don’t want you to get hurt again, either.”

He grabs your shoulders. “I won’t. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Well, I’m not lettin’ you get hurt either. And I know you got my back.” He grins. “We’ll get these fuckers.” You try to smile back, but you’re really not that confident. “What, former champ can’t take a challenge?”

You roll your eyes. “Would you stop trying to taunt me into doing shit?”

“When it stops workin’, sure.” He gives you a hug. “We’ll do it. Don’t you worry.”

It’s easier to believe that when you’re in his arms.

 

The next morning, you watch Guzma change from his sweats to his new clothes, admiring his back and his ass as he bends over to get his pants on. He’s switched to boxer-briefs now that he’s wearing tighter pants, and they hug his hips very nicely. “I’m a fan of this whole living together thing,” you tell him.

He sticks out his tongue and throws in a couple wiggles as he pulls his pants up. “It’s got its benefits.” He comes over and kisses you, brushing your hand away when you stick your fingers under his waistband. “I can’t believe I’m the one turnin’ down sex,” he says, “but I gotta go.”

You kiss him again before you ask, “You know when you’ll be back tonight?”

“Should be the usual time, far as I know.” He tugs at your lip with his teeth.

“Nice to know you’ll just be here,” you say when he pulls away. “Instead of just wondering if you’ll come over.”

“I like havin’ you to come home to.” He finally gets up and gets back to getting dressed.

Tonight he gets back later than usual. “So they asked me about the Ultra Beast thing,” he says as he walks in the door.

“And?”

“’Course we’re doin’ it together.” He pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on top of your head.

“Good.” You hold him for a minute before remembering, “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Oh no,” he groans sarcastically, “what’ll we do?” He lets go of you and heads to fix a plate in the kitchen.

After dinner, you sit with him on the couch, your legs slung over his lap, him finishing up a case in the newest Ace Attorney game while you read. His Masquerain’s sitting on his head, and Golisopod’s curled up at his feet with your Arcanine, the coffee table pushed up against the TV stand to accommodate the two massive Pokémon. You stick your thumb in the book and close it, asking, “So when are we supposed to get started on the Ultra Beast catching?”

“Gotta meet up with Looker at the Aether Foundation tomorrow morning at 9.” He pretends to stick his finger down his throat and makes a gagging noise.

“It’s Gladion and Wicke and decent people now, it’s not that bad.” You pause. “Wait, why the Aether Foundation?”

“Have to get the beast balls and the intel.” He shrugs. “Apparently they’ve been doin’ most of the trackin’.”

You put the book down. “I was hoping we’d have a little more time to settle in first.”

“Like we’re not already?” He glances down at the two Pokémon napping on the floor.

You fold your arms across your chest. “I just keep getting thrown from one thing to another. First it was the island trials, then being Champ, and then two weeks later, this.” You look around the room. “Sometimes I feel like all I do in this house is sleep.”

“Well, I think we’ve broken in the bedroom pretty good.” He smirks at you. “We could always have a quickie in the kitchen –”

“No.”

“Or the dining room –”

“No!” You stick your tongue out at him. “Gross.”

“I wasn’t saying we had to do it on the table,” he mutters. “It’s just the most obvious, comfortable place.”

“Yeah, a wooden table is so comfortable.” You reach up and pet his Masquerain before you stick your fingers in his fluffy hair. “I’ll stick to here or the bed, thanks.”

“Where’s your sense of fun?”

“Arguing with my sense of ‘holy shit do I not want to clean that up.’”

He grins. “I’ll talk you into it one day.” He takes out his Pokéballs and puts Masquerain and Golisopod up. “But sure, bedroom and here’s fine for now.”

You get Arcanine into her ball before you lean in and kiss him. “I think I want the bedroom tonight.” You laugh as he picks you up and carries you to the bed without hesitation.

Guzma’s kissing his way down your neck when he stops and looks up at you. “Life is weird.”

“What, you getting philosophical about sex now?”

“No, I’m pullin’ a you and havin’ the unsexiest thoughts ever.” He rolls off of you and glances up at the ceiling. “The last couple months have just been so crazy. I didn’t know what the fuck to do with myself after I finished the trials. When I was runnin’ Team Skull, I had no idea what the fuck I was doin’ until Lusamine came along. Had even less of an idea after that bullshit and breakin’ up the team and movin’ in with Mom and Dad. That was fuckin’ rock bottom.” He gets on his side and looks at you. “Then you come along bein’ your annoyin’ goody-two-shoes self and suddenly…” He runs his fingers over your cheek. “Suddenly I got a reason to try again. To try to fix stuff instead of just driftin’ around and wastin’ away.”

You smile at him. “And you’ve been doing so good.”

He starts to say something, then stops, then starts again. “One of the things I’ve learned is not to argue with you about that, but whatever.” He tucks your hair back behind your ear. “I never woulda ended up here if it hadn’t been for you.”

You roll over and hug him. “You underestimate how stubborn you are. You would’ve figured something out.”

“Doubt it woulda been somethin’ good.” He moves so he’s lying on his back and you’re on top of him. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is… thanks.” He pulls your head down and kisses you. “Thanks for everything. I feel like I have my life back.”

You press your face into his chest. “I’m just so happy we are where we are.”

You’re content to lie there, just listening to and feeling him breathe. After a while, he says, “We better get movin’ if we wanna fuck. Gotta get up early tomorrow.”

“We get up early every morning.”

“I can’t believe you’re makin’ me a morning person,” he groans.

“Hey, blame Hala for that, he’s the one who started making you do tai chi.” You sit up and study his face. “So we get this shit started tomorrow. But for tonight…” You lie back down and press your forehead to his. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all I need.”

He smiles. It’s nice how frequent his smiles are becoming. “I think that’s all I need right now.” He pulls you in for another kiss. “We can worry about other shit in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we're at the end of the fic. But not of the story! :D I had too many ideas for more stuff to write to contain it to just this. But I think here's a good place to leave this off.
> 
> This fic is nearly 80,000 words long. It's the biggest thing I've ever written, period. And the most supported thing I've ever posted. Thanks once again for all your kudos and kind words; it would have been much more difficult to keep going without them. I'm amazed I churned all this out in two months with little to no planning on my part; I had no idea where the hell I was going when I got pissed off about the end of the game and sat down to write the first chapter.
> 
> Unfortunately, it's gonna be a bit until we get to the sequel. I have other fics and projects that are bursting out of me and they sorely need attention. Plus, I need to actually finish the game and see what the hell the UB missions are all about. :P But worry not, more is coming. It just may take some time. I hope those other fics are enough to hold y'all over in the meantime.
> 
> Until then, alola!


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